Kiss the Girls
by Lydia Stoker
Summary: When Dean tries to help Sam unwind in the small town of Roanoke, things become increasingly complicated as Cas shows up with a case that will not only test the brothers limits, but bring back old memories that both had thought had been long since dead and buried. Can Sam and Dean resolve their issues in time to save the small town of Roanoke before its too late?
1. The Void All Men Have

**Title: **Kiss the Girls  
**Rating: **M (Violence, Adult Language, Adult Situations)  
**Plot: **When Dean tries to help Sam unwind in the small town of Roanoke, things become increasingly complicated as Cas shows up with a case that will not only test the brothers limits, but bring back old memories that both had thought had been long since dead and buried. Can Sam and Dean resolve their issues in time to save the small town of Roanoke before its too late?  
**Disclaimer: **As usual I don't own Sam, Dean, or Cas (and any other characters from the 'verse), but I do own all original characters and loath them equally.  
**Author's Note: **This was intended to be a short, sweet, and fun little one-shot about Sam and Dean relaxing, but it evolved into something so much more fun. I would like to dedicate this ditty to my friend Elliott. I hope you like it.

_**Chapter One:  
**__**The Void All Men Have**_

Robert Conrad could only roll his eyes and feign defeat. "You win," he said aloud to his friend Eric Carlyle as Eric's 2002 Ford Focus lurched to a stop," I know nothing, you know what's best." he recited, blandly. Eric had been on his ass for weeks about relaxing and doing something for himself instead of his bitch of a wife, Courtney. Eric shot him a look that made his blood run cold and crossed his arms. He knew what his friend was expecting. "I'm not saying it," he replied looking over to Eric whose eyes were drilling into him, "there's nothing you could say or do to make me say it."

Eric laughed and shifted in his seat. "Nothing?" he said running his left hand through his thick blonde hair, "You don't want to make a bet on that, do you?" he asked reaching for his cell. Robert reached out and smacked the cell from his hand and frowned. "What? You thought I was going to call your wife?" he asked looking defeated. "I wasn't." he threw out as Robert turned off his friend's cell and placed it between them in the center console.

"Sure. Fine. Whatever," he replied now folding his arms and shooting Eric a cross look, "you really expect me to believe that? Who do you take me for? Tommy?" Robert asked allowing his tone to become lighter. Eric laughed and retrieved his cell. Turning it on, he shifted the Focus from drive to park and rested his hands on the steering wheel. "Really, I'm not saying it." he responded to Eric who was still waiting for the rest of the speech. "You can't make me." Robert playfully shouted at his best friend.

Eric nodded with mock understanding, "I can see how it is," he replied to his friend, "you think that, because you're married, you can't have a little fun and fill that deep, deep, deep void that all men have inside themselves and I understand that. I do! But, man, you're killing me," he waxed, really getting into it now "you have been down on your luck and while I don't mean to Bon Jovi your ass...it's your life and it's now or never. I'm sure Courtney wouldn't mind. Hell, she might even thank me!" His eyes met Robert's as he finished and he watched as his friend let out a long, labored sigh and fumbled with his wedding ring.

Robert could see what his friend was reaching for and knew he wouldn't let it rest. "Fine," he finally said and rolled his eyes, "if I must say it...let's do this now and let's make it hot." he continued feeling like a total idiot. It could have been worse, though, and he knew it. He still had nightmares about time he and Eric had taken his brother Tommy to a bondage club back in college and ended up leaving with a chick with a dick. That was something he knew Eric would never let him live down and even now, eight years later, he still reminded him of it from time to time.

"See, was that so damn difficult?" Eric asked climbing out of the Focus. Robert shook his head and followed his friend out of the car. "Now," Eric said with a smirk that Robert knew could mean nothing good, "let's have us some fun!" he said waltzing ahead of Robert who was lagging behind him. Turning back to see his friend, Eric could see the expression of disappointment and trepidation on his friend's face. "Relax," he offered as the two of them reached the solid oak door, "there's nothing wrong with _looking_. Besides, what Courtney doesn't know won't hurt her. Right?" he said holding the door for his friend and motioning for him to enter.

As the two men entered, Robert cringed just a little feeling the vibration of the room. He knew the only thing protecting their eardrums from the loud music was the thick double doors. He could smell the faint scent of perfume in the air. "Welcome to Gold and Silver!" a stout man announced as they walked through the second set of double doors ahead of them. Robert took a step back and looked at the man who was greeting him. He had a military cut and dark hazel eyes and looked Robert and Eric over. "I will need to see your licenses," he said finally, "strict rules. I'm sure you understand." he continued. Robert reached behind him and removed his wallet and offered his license as Eric followed suit. "Thank you, gentleman." he replied handing them back their licenses and moving out of the way. "Enjoy your evening."

Robert could feel his heart sinking as he continued through the doors and heard the loudest music he had heard since he was in college. _She licks those lips and off we go, she takes it up nice and slow 'cause that's porn star dancing...she don't play nice - she makes me beg as she drops that dress around her legs..._echoed through the room as Robert's eyes danced across the stage. He watched as a young redhead slid down a pole, arching her body to the beat, and eliciting the cries from the crowd. Eric smacked Robert's back and tossed a dollar on the stage as they walked by. "This is so fucking awesome, isn't it, Robbie?" he shouted trying to be heard over the music.

"Yeah," he shouted back trying to hide his guilt as Eric lead them to another dancer, "this is awesome." he said low enough that Eric didn't hear him. He followed his friend to another redhead, this one was wearing a matching bra and panties adorned with those annoying strips you find on leather jackets. Eric smacked his friend's back again and motioned for Robert to have a seat. "What are we doing?" he shouted, but it didn't seem like Eric could hear him. "Eric! What am I doing in this place!?" he shouted again, this time loud enough for Eric to take notice him.

Eric leaned close to his friend and whispered in his ear. "You're releasing some of that built up tension and allowing yourself a short vacation for your wife." Returning to his post he watched as the redhead arched her back against the pole and flailed her arms wildly. The group of men around them and Robert shouted and tossed money. "What's not to love about this chick!?" he shouted over the music to the delight of the other men.

"I need to be alone for a few minutes," Robert shouted over the cacophony of noise, "I'm heading out for a smoke." he continued. Eric nodded along but didn't pay much attention to his friend. Robert knew his focus was directed at the woman on the stage. He could have driven a knife in his friend's back at that moment and he wouldn't have noticed the slightest bit. "Need to clear my head," he mumbled as he shuffled through the crowds to the doors.

"Hey, do you have smoke I can bum?" he asked the bouncer he had encountered earlier. The man considered for a moment and removed a pack of cowboy killers from his sleeve and offered Robert one. "Thank you, I owe you one." he replied before walking out. The bouncer snorted caustically and directed his attention back to his post. Robert could hear him saying something, but could have cared less about it. He just needed some fresh air.

Outside he was hit with a blast of cold air. As he fumbled with the lighter he heard the door open again and looked over in time to see a brunette walking out, dressed in a long coat and hugging herself. She smiled over to him and lit her own cigarette. "Damn things will kill me someday," she said aloud, the hint of a smile touching her delicate blue painted lips "but not today." she continued. Robert chuckled and nodded before turning his attention back to the lighter in his hand. "What brings you here?" she asked quizzically, her eyes assessing him. Robert was slightly taken aback by the inquiry, but considered it.

"I'm with a friend," he replied trying to find the logic in what he was saying, "a friend who, despite being my best friend since I was five wouldn't listen to me." he offered. The young brunette nodded and smiled again. Robert could feel a sense of companionship developing between the two of them. "What brings you here?" he asked, not clearly thinking of what he was asking. The woman laughed and took a long drag from her cigarette before responding.

"I could say I'm paying off student loans, but you wouldn't believe that. No, so I will say that I'm looking to expand my horizons," she offered with a smirk, "but let's not dwell on what I'm doing here. Care for a dance, handsome?" she inquired. Robert flushed slightly in embarrassment, of course the woman was one of the dancers - why else would she be there - and felt a sense of weightlessness rush over him. For a moment he had no idea how to respond to the woman's advance.

After considering it for a moment, he finally made his decision. "Yeah," he replied, "that would be kind of nice. I'm here to relax and what better way?" he said. For the first time in weeks he had done something that Eric had been trying to make him do - relax. As the woman led him back in the club he could once again hear the music blasting out of the speakers, _you're so hypnotizing...could you be the devil? Could you be an angel? _Glancing over he saw Eric still enthralled with the redhead and directed his attention the woman leading him. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Rose," she replied playfully as they entered the back of the club, "but most call me Rosie." she continued, but Robert's attention was directed at the six rooms ahead of him, each with a door labeled "Do Not Disturb" on a small plaque. "Just over this way," she said leading him to the last door in the hall, "come on." She opened the door. Robert followed her in and sat down on the chair and watched as she climbed up on the mini-stage that was in front of the chair. "Now all you have to do is relax...and enjoy yourself, handsome." she cooed as she started to dance.

Robert watched, it was impossible not to and all the feelings of discomfort seemed to evaporate as she drew herself close to the pole, running her fingers along the steel, and lowering herself. It didn't take long before the coat was removed to reveal a buxom figure, one that he hadn't been expecting, and found himself unusually aroused by. Shifting his weight in the seat he watched as she lowered herself and started to crawl towards him. He could see the weight of her breasts vibrating with the music and her motions left him more aroused than he had been in months. "Wow." he felt escape before he could stop himself.

"Do you like what you see?" Rose asked him as she drew closer. Robert nodded and watched as she licked her lips. "You want me," she coaxed him as she slid her hand along his thighs, "you need me." Robert continued to shift his weight to hide his reaction, but he knew it was no use. The woman had been touching of him before he could figure out what was happening. "You look so delicious." she replied licking the side of his face.

Robert felt a tinge of sensation shoot down his spine as Rose rested her hands on his shoulders and straddled him. "Hi," he replied with a smirk, "what can I do for you?" he inquired. Rose smiled and licked her lips again. Robert watched as she let her right hand slide down his chest and she smiled. _This must have been what Eric meant by release the tension_, he thought to himself.

"So delicious," Rose said as she titled her head back, "I could just eat you up!" It was in that moment when her body changed, shifted almost, into something far more disturbing than he could have imagined. She had shifted from the beautiful vixen who had been seducing him into a mouth of razor sharp teeth. Robert tried to scream, but it was no use as the sound was caught in his throat and the woman wrapped her lips around him. In the distance, Katy Perry declared that _boy you're an alien, your touch is foreign, it's supernatural...extraterrestrial_.


	2. Brotherly Bonding

_**Chapter Two:  
**__**Brotherly Bonding**_

Sam recognized the look on Dean's face and he didn't like it. "C'mon," Dean coaxed as he coasted the Impala along the back road, "you know what we need?" the elder brother continued as he looked over at Sam who was shifting his weight in his seat. "What we need is a break from this for a little while," he said not waiting for Sam to answer, "take a break and relax; unwind a bit." Dean offered. Glancing over to his brother, Sam could feel his eyes drilling him. "How about it, Sammy?" Dean asked, "How about some good ol' fashioned brotherly bonding? Just you and me." He continued to offer, cocking his head to the left slightly. There was a long silence as Sam thought about the offer.

Running his hand through his thick hair Sam thought about the best way to let Dean down, but he knew that there would be no way to do it without causing considerable damage to their already strained relationship so he decided the best course of action would be to lie. "Sounds fun," he said with a long sigh, "what did you have in mind?" He felt his heart sink deeper and deeper within his chest. He hated lying to Dean, but since his brother came back from Purgatory things had been difficult to say the least. There was the fact that Dean had been confiding in Castiel over him and then the whole deal with Benny that had caused even further damage to their already fragile relationship.

"Well," Dean started as he switched off the radio, "I was thinking of something fun. Just the two of us. How about we drift in the next town and see what they have to offer?" he asked. There was a cadence in his tone that told Sam that Dean already knew what the two of them would be doing, but he was trying his best to avoid revealing too much. "I mean, Roanoke can't be too bad, right?" he asked, accompanying it with a slight shrug. Again, he didn't wait for Sam to respond before he was talking again. "Roanoke, I don't believe we have ever been there, have we? If so it's been a long time."

"No," Sam replied sullenly, "I can't remember a time when we have been there, Dean." Sam could feel himself becoming hot under the tension that was brewing within himself, but he knew that this was for the best. Dean meant well. He really did. And that should be enough, shouldn't it? "So, what's in Roanoke, Virginia, Dean?" he asked trying to distract himself and keep the conversation flowing. He knew Dean would know something was off if he didn't keep up his end of the flow of conversation they had so long ago established.

His eyes shifted uncomfortably to his brother when he didn't answer immediately. Dean seemed to be chewing over the question and carefully formulating his answer. "I don't know," he replied finally, "but we're about to find out. I mean, what's not to love about small town America?" he asked taking the Roanoke exit. "Guess we will find out in about fifteen minutes or so, huh?" Sam sighed and almost instantly regretted the allowance as Dean looked over at him. "You don't want to do this, do you?" he asked. Sam could feel the undeniable tension in the Impala building between them.

"I never said that," Sam replied slowly, carefully, knowing that their relationship was already on extremely thin ice, "I never said anything against the idea of brotherly bonding." he retorted. Dean shook his head and returned his attention back to the road ahead of him. Sam rested his arm on the window and brought his right hand to the bridge of his nose and tried to find the right words to say to Dean. "Look," he finally spoke, breaking the silence, "I don't know what you're thinking or what's been going on, but I'm not feeling too well right now and I don't think a night on the town is about to cure that." he offered. It was another lie, but one less hurtful than the truth.

Dean snorted as he continued to drive, keeping focus on the road. "Yeah, I see how it is," he replied after a pregnant silence passed between the brothers, "you think...no, you feel...like I'm closer to Cas than you, don't you? And because of this whole Benny business that I don't care what you think. What you feel." Dean said. Sam could feel his brother's words cutting through him like a serrated knife. "Well," Dean exhaled as he spoke, "at least I'm trying to make this work; trying to fix it. What have you been doing since I got back? Running." Dean noted with a finality to his tone that sent chills down Sam's spine and daggers through his heart.

"Dean, I don't even know how to justify what you're saying right now!" Sam almost shouted, breaking his brooding silence. Dean shot him a look that would have killed him. "Okay," he admitted, sighing in selfless surrender, "you're right. I hate that you have a new best-friend and I can't stand the fact that you went to Cas instead of me and yes, you now have Benny. Do you really even want me here?" he said feeling a enormous emotional weight had been lifted from his heart. Dean took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "There, I said it. Happy?" he asked expecting Dean to continue make fun of him. Or explode from the built up emotions they had both been shoving down since his return.

Sam watched as Dean tilted his head once more and thought about his response. God he had missed his brother; he would always miss Dean, but he had found something, he had found a life. With Amelia and no matter what Dean would have liked to have believed she wasn't the enemy. Still, as his mind ran amok with thoughts he knew that Dean was doing the exact same thing. He could see it in his expression and the silence swelling between them. He also knew that this was the life that Dean had chosen and his father before him had chosen and their grandfather before even him. Sam knew running would do little and trying to debate that fact with Dean would be moot.

"Sam," he sighed aloud, "I don't know. I'm trying. You won't let me, fine. I can deal with that, but don't ask me to fucking like it." Dean replied. The weight of his words hit Sam in the heart more than the last. Dean, his brother and companion, had managed to once again deal him the cards he was holding close to his chest. "I mean," he continued, "what the hell have we done for ourselves since we started this? I went to live with Lisa and we both saw how that turned out to be shit. You might have been happy with Amelia, but trust me Sam...she's not cut out for this life." Sam knew what was coming next and could feel the regret bubbling up to the surface. "Just," he sighed again, "let me do this. I'm not saying you have to pretend to like it, but at least try and have some fun and unwind a bit. Okay?" he said sounding a bit more demanding than Sam figured he thought that he would have.

There was nothing else Sam could have said that would have changed the fact that Dean was upset with him, so he built a wall around himself and created a mask to brood behind. Dean wouldn't think much of it, he knew, and he could fake the excitement of bonding while retaining his cover. That was the choice he had made and he knew there was no sense in trying to reason with Dean now. So, he sat back in the leather seat, feeling it envelop him as it had on so many long nights before, and allowed his mind to drift back to Amelia.

Sam remained silent for the rest of the drive, watching as the streetlights cast their ominous shadows over the car and the street, thinking to himself. Could he leave this life behind and never look back? Be happy with Amelia and see Dean only when he was in town on a hunt or something? It would have made things a lot easier than it had been. The recent loss of Bobby had affected them both, as well. Sam knew that was some of the reason he had left the life, never looking back, only to be dragged back in. It became easier to move on without having to deal. For a brief moment he considered being soulless as an improvement over being the emotional roller coaster he had become.

His thoughts were broken, however, as Dean slid the Impala off the main drag and down one of the side roads. "There," he said, "I know what we can do to release some of this tension." Pointing to a sign that was emanating from the distance he read aloud, "Gold and Silver Gentleman's Club." Sam tried to swallow the disdain cultivating in his mouth for Dean's sake, but before he could say anything Dean was explaining that it would do him well to see a woman dance. "There's something almost mystical about it, Sammy," he waxed poetically, "I mean, really. What could be better than watching some big chested chick take it off?" Sam could hear the excitement building in his tone and their earlier conversation fading away.

"Not having to pay for it?" Sam retorted. Dean's only answer was a look of feigned defeat over Sam's response as he drifted the Impala into the parking lot and shifted it into park. "Dean," Sam whined incredulously, "I don't need to see half naked women bouncing across a stage in a building that stinks of sweat, desperation, and alcohol to bond with you. Something as simple as a beer is just fine." he said hoping that Dean would change his mind, but he knew this was nothing more than wishful thinking on his part. Dean seldom changed his mind when he had set it on something and women, women Sam knew was one thing Dean loved more than life and even more than hunting.

Dean smirked as he climbed out and closed the door. "Women," he replied, "beer, this joint has it all, Sam." Sam rolled his eyes and closed the door. "Besides, you know as well as I do...nothing can fix a broken soul more than a bit of sex." he smirked even more now. Sam knew what would come next. He could feel the impending sense of dreaded building, but there was nothing he could do to slow down the inevitable. "Now, leave you cares behind because we are about to enter the land of desire and sin." he said rubbing his hands together as if this was something to be delighted about.

"Yee-haw?" Sam asked as he sulked to the massive oak door and waited for Dean. Inside he could hear the faint sound of music blasting and the wretched stench of desperation seeping out. It didn't take long for him to feel his heart sink and his stomach turn. "What have I done so wrong to deserve this?" he asked himself as Dean opened the door for him and shuffled him inside.


	3. Porn Star Dancing

_**Chapter Three:  
**__**Porn Star Dancing**_

Dean could read Sam's distaste for the selection of "brotherly bonding," but he could have cared less. This was as much for him as it was for Sam and he wasn't about to sit it out in some bland old bar and have to listen to how shit was hitting the fan on the farm. He had spent more than enough time pretending to give a damn about that type of shit when he was hustling pool and right now he was looking to relax, take in a few sights, and knock back a few shots. He might even take one of these beautiful ladies back to a hotel. That was all he wanted and required to unwind and live a little bit. Something he felt Sam hadn't done since his return from Purgatory and something he damn well hadn't had a chance to do while spending the last year running for his life in Monster Prison. Besides, the two of them could use a break from everything even if it was for only one evening.

As he watched Sam enter the club, Dean would feel the vibrations coming from within. The music was loud, but he couldn't yet make out what was being played. The sweet scent of roses, sweat, and depravity floated through the air and filled Dean's nostrils. Inhaling deeply he smirked as he listened to the first door shut and noticed a stout man, arms crossed, waiting before the next set of double doors. The man, he figured, was the bouncer. "Gentleman," he said in a tone that was more bored than demanding, "might I see your license?" he asked. Dean looked over to Sam who was reaching in his back pocket to remove his wallet. Dean followed suit and removed his own license. The man looked over both of them for a moment before handing them back. "Mr. Tyler, Mr. Romero, welcome to Gold and Silver. Enjoy your stay." he said curtly.

Sam and Dean thanked the man and entered the club. Dean couldn't resist beaming as he found himself caught up in the moment. To his left there was a blonde woman molesting the steel rod on the stage to the delight of several men, himself included, and a few yards from there was the bar, which to Dean's surprise he saw two women. To his right was the second stage, this one occupied by a brunette and buxom beauty clothed in an overcoat and unbuttoning it nice and slow. Dean smacked Sam on the back with a solid thud and shouted over the loud music, "I'm heading to the bar. You coming?"

Dean waited for Sam to answer, but he seemed to be in his own little world brooding about something so he left him where he was. Sam was old enough to know how to find him. Drawing closer to the bar he noticed that both of the women there were fully clothed and seemed to be visitors rather than dancers. One, a redhead smiled at him as he walked over and motioned for him to sit next to her. Dean was more than delighted to oblige the woman. "You look like you could use some company," the woman said, "I'm Danielle." she offered her hand. Dean couldn't resist a cocky smirk as he took her hand and shook. "What's your name, stranger?"

"Dean," he replied and tried to remember the name on his license, "Dean Tyler." The woman continued to smile. "So, I'm curious. What brings a beautiful woman like you to a place like this?" he asked. The woman laughed a bit at the obvious nature of the line and Dean feigned a defeat. "I'm really curious!" he exclaimed, defending his interest in her, but he knew all too well that he was playing with fire. There was nothing he could have done about it now, though. He had leapt off the cliff and started his engines running. The woman considered his question for a moment, though, before answering him.

"Well," she replied, the corner of her lips titled in a seductive smirk, "I'm waiting for my girlfriend to be done with her shift." Her eyes flicked to the vivacious young blonde on the stage to the left. Dean swallowed swiftly and looked away for a moment. The woman laughed, before settling in and smiling. "Don't worry, I like men, too. In fact, we were looking for a man about your type and build to join us. You know, spice things up a bit?" she explained to a shocked Dean. He was having trouble believing his luck. Out of all the bars and strip clubs he had been in he had never once found a lesbian and this one was hitting on him of all things!

Dean tried to find the words that were catching in his throat, but he only managed to fumbled. "Really?" he asked feeling himself choke a bit, "I don't know - I'm unsure - I'm confused - I..." he rambled. The woman laughed more and drew her left hand to his lips and rested them there. A chill went down his spine as she licked her lips and grinned fiendishly. All he could think about was where Sam was and what fun he was missing out on. "Brother," he said finally, "I have a brother," he tried to explain, "Sam." he continued but the woman was shaking her head and looking him over. His heart skipped several beats as he fought with telling Sam about this encounter.

"Aw, sweetie! Am I making you nervous?" Danielle quipped, adding a luscious sensuality to her voice, "I thought you were a smooth talker and you're making a fool out of yourself." Dean knew the woman was right and let out a long sigh. This was something new. He had never once been hit on by a woman and to make matters even more uncomfortable this one was a lesbian. Once again his mind drifted back to Sam as he checked around the room to see where he might have wandered off to. "Looking for someone?" Danielle asked sounding a bit hurt that Dean was no longer paying her his undivided attention.

"Yeah," Dean said distracted, "I'm looking for my brother." he replied continuing to scan around for Sam. His attention drifted from the attractive redhead lesbian's blonde girlfriend to the other woman on the other stage, but he didn't see Sam anywhere. "He's with me and we were looking to unwind a bit," he continued, "and I meant to buy him a drink." he tried to explain. The woman smiled and brought Dean's attention back to her. For the first time since he had walked through the front door Dean could make out what was playing over the speakers. The music was not of his taste, but he couldn't deny that it made sense to him in that exact moment, _I'm more like a silver bullet than I'm like a gun, not easy to hold - I'm moving fast and if I stay inside your heart I'm certain this will be the end of your life_.

Danielle shifted her weight in the stool and nodded to Dean. "Well, let's leave him off on his own and focus on what you want," she replied, "how's that sound?" she asked. Dean blinked several times. Danielle frowned. "What? Does he mean more to you than me?" she asked adding a degree of hurt to her tone. Dean was too distracted by this point to care about the beautiful lesbian in front of him. "I'm talking to you," she said sounding more frustrated than before, "what's wrong with you?" she asked. It was too late, however, as Dean had left her by herself. "Men," she said blowing the hair out of her eyes, "not worth a damn at all."

For a moment Dean felt his eyes must be playing a trick on him; had to be playing tricks on him. There was no way he was seeing who he thought he was seeing. "Cas," he said aloud to no one, "I'm not seeing him." He attempted to convince himself as he shuffled through the crowd towards the man that was wearing the same overcoat that his friend had often worn. "Cas," he said aloud a second time, "is that you?" he asked. The man didn't seem to be listening or able to hear him over the music. The man was too busy enjoying the show the redhead on the stage was putting on and it was difficult for Dean to make out who the man was from behind. Dean shuffled closer as he moved through the crowd and tried to catch the man's attention.

"Dean," a voice shouted from behind him, echoing through his head loudly, "Dean...there you are." Dean spun around to see Sam looking back at him. The look on his face was unmistakable. "I have been looking for you. You weren't over at the bar." he continued. Dean blinked several times before directing his attention back to the man who he believed to be Cas. "Dean," Sam shouted, again wondering at his brother's preoccupation, "we need to talk outside for a moment." Motioning toward the door he waited patiently for his bother's response. Dean nodded finally but his eyes were still locked on the figure in the overcoat. He watched, sullenly, as the figure shifted his weight and left the area. "C'mon," he said again, "we really need to talk."

Once outside Dean tried to collect his thoughts. "What was that back there?" he asked. Sam looked at him like he was losing his mind, unsure of how to respond. "You saw him, didn't you? Tell me I'm not crazy." Sam continued to look at him and shoved his hands in his coat and shrugged. "Great, you have no idea who I'm talking about." Dean replied throwing his hands up in frustration. "I saw a guy who could have been Cas. There, I said it." he sighed.

"Cas," Sam replied with a sense of disbelief in his tone, "Dean I don't know what you're trying to do but Cas is the reason we need to talk." Dean ran his hand through his hair and looked directly at Sam as if he was playing a mean trick on him. "Really, Dean. I'm not fucking with you." he replied in his own defense. "Cas is on his way out, he wanted to talk to you, but we couldn't find you so he went one way and I went the other." he explained.

"Really," Dean said trying to compose himself, "that's wonderful. Just super. I try and have one night off and what happens?" he fumed aloud, watching as Sam took a few steps back and he tried to reign his anger in. "Sorry, Sam," he replied calming down a little, "I'm just trying to sort through all of this. I mean, I thought I saw him back in there and you're telling me I did?" The sound of the door shutting cut through him and his attention went directly to the man coming out.

"Dean." Cas said as he drew closer. "I have been looking for you," he explained looking over to Sam, "I have a case. One that I'm sure you will be interested in." There was a faint smile playing at the edges of his mouth. Dean fought back the urge to punch his angelic friend in the face for having the nerve to show up and ruin his boys' night out. "One that I'm sure you will agree is of interest." he continued not waiting for Dean to ask what it was.

"Cas," he replied swiftly cutting him short, "unless it has something to do with lesbians or strippers I'm not interested." Sam frowned and shifted his weight while the angel looked at him quizzically. "That's what I thought," he replied walking in a semi-circle, "so tell me Cas, what's this case you found? I'm sure it's wonderful." He couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice as he looked the angel straight in the eye. Sam blew his hair out of his eyes and watched as Cas shifted his weight and thought about how to respond to what Dean was saying.

"Lesbians," he seemed to be mulling over Dean previous comment, "I don't believe it has anything to do with the island of Lesbos." he considered for a moment before continuing. "But I do believe it involves strippers. In this club, to be honest. There was a death here about two nights ago." Cas offered. Dean's skin crawled for a moment as he tried to register what Cas had told him. Dean shot Sam a look and saw he was fighting back the urge to laugh at Cas' literalism but Dean knew he wouldn't let himself have that pleasure. "Interested?" he asked hopefully. Dean bit his lower lip and sighed.

"You're saying there was a death here, several nights ago, involving a stripper?" he inquired. Cas nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets mimicking what he had seen Sam doing. Sam leaned against the wall and watched intently. "How does this shit keep finding me? I mean, I'm looking for some time alone with Sam to...to just...enjoy myself and now you're showing up with a case! A murder case!" he directed himself at Cas who was standing firm. "Wonderful. Just wonderful." he continued, throwing his hands in the air. Cas took a step back and frowned. "I'll check around for a hotel room." Dean muttered under his breath seething with unresolved anger.

"Does this mean you're taking it," Cas asked with a ring of hope in his tone, "we're on another case?" he sounded more excited by the minute. Dean could only nod as he thought about it. This was the risk he ran, and he knew it, being a hunter. It was a life that waited for no man and didn't care what you were doing. Still, he would have liked to have relaxed a bit before doing something else.

"Guess this means there's no porn star dancing tonight," he replied sullenly looking over to Sam who was still battling a smile, "this isn't over, Sam. We will still have our bonding." he replied to Sam as if he meant it. Thinking to himself for a moment he knew he meant it. There was nothing that would stand between him making things right between them. Maybe this case would afford them that luxury, but he knew that was a long shot.


	4. Waking the Dead

_**Chapter Four:**_

_**Waking the Dead**_

As dawn reared its head, the bright rays casting a glow through the motel room window, Dean rolled over unwillingly and rubbed his eyes. Checking the clock on the nightstand between the two beds he saw that it was just after six in the morning. "Great, I can't even sleep in if I wanted to." he groaned as he fell off the bed and slowly shuffled his way to the bathroom. Dean squinted as he flicked on the light for the soft hum brought it to life. "Eh, too damn early." Groggily he turned on the sink and listening to the water run. Reaching down and cupping his hands he splashed some water on his face, but behind him there was a strange sound as he drew himself up and out of instinct his hand went to his side, but he realized too late he wasn't armed. "Cas?!" he shouted, spinning on his heel, as he saw the faint figure of the angel standing behind him.

"I'm sorry," he replied in a static monotone, "am I disturbing you? I was only trying to be prompt and ready for the case ahead of us." Dean could feel his heart pounding inside his chest as he listened to his angelic friend explain his motive. "You seem to be excited." he noted as Dean ran his wet hand through his hair and rested his left on his hip. Excited would have been an understatement in that exact moment as Dean fought to compose himself.

Dean was battling back the welling desire to quell his friend's stalker-like entrance with a punch, but decided against it. "You could say that," he replied as curtly as he could, "I'm not used to people sneaking up on me in the bathroom. We need to have a long talk about space and intruding." Dean quipped. Cas tilted his head ever so slightly as he considered what Dean had said. Dean could only roll his eyes and move on with his day. He had learned long ago that there was no use in fighting with an angel, both literally and figuratively. "Do me a favor and wake Sam." Dean smiled at his astounding brilliance. Easily amusing himself with the thoughts of the outcome he watched as Cas chewed on the proposal for a moment and shuffled to Sam's bedside.

As he continued his morning ritual, Dean could hear Cas following his directions and Sam's reaction of shouting at Cas. He chuckled to himself as he washed his hands and leaned back to hear the conversation between the two. "...what the fuck are you doing looming over me?" Sam demanded aloud. Dean knew the response that Cas would offer and right on cue Cas didn't fail Dean's expectations. "Dean," Sam shouted now directing his attention to Dean, "I'm going to kill you. Cas, could you...do me a favor...and not...lurk so much?" Sam asked, annoyed. Dean chuckled to himself and reached for the towel. His morning was complete.

The ride from the motel to the Roanoke County Morgue was a silent one. Cas sat in the backseat, minding himself, as Sam fumed next to Dean in the passenger seat. Dean wanted to make some snarky or cleaver comment about Sam deserving the rude awakening, but thought better of it. Deep down he knew it would only feed the brewing fire; and one that he wasn't looking for and couldn't put out. Biting his lower lip, Dean just drove, only occasionally looking over to Sam for a direction which he would then offer nothing more than a point of a finger. Dean knew he was brooding about it, but that was how Sam was. Brood instead of talk about it. The thought of all that sharing made Dean shudder as he drove past the morgue, lost in his own thoughts and self reflection. "Shit!" he exclaimed as he smacked the brakes sending everyone in the car lurching forward a bit.

"Great," Sam shouted, "you can kill us now and save us the trouble of having to solve this case. And oh, look, we're right where they would be taking us! No waiting for us to be on the slab." Sam's tone dripped with fuming sarcasm. Dean looked over at Sam who was busy painting an expression of fake fear on his face in response to Dean's action. In the backseat Dean heard Cas sit back in his seat and shift his weight. "Wonderful," Sam exhaled loudly, "just shiny. I wasn't looking one bit forward to working this case with you." his voice oozed acid with each new syllable. Dean fought back the hurt that came from Sam's words and barely managed choked down the vomit building up.

Cas drew himself closer to the brothers and smiled. "If you two are done having a lover's spat it would seem that the destination is just over there." Dean rolled his eyes and the urge to punch Cas's clock came back again, but knew it would only make him feel worse. Despite his direct and almost clueless manner Dean knew he was right. "Might I suggest that we find a suitable location to leave the car and venture inside?" he asked, now sounding like an excited six year old heading to Disneyland for the first time. Dean let out a long, exasperated sigh. It was going to be a long case.

Collecting himself, Dean shifted the Impala back into drive and coasted it over to the morgue's parking lot. Cas was right. The two of them would have to leave their emotions at the door, at least for now, and focus on the case at hand. "Sam," Dean offered as he selected a spot, "I wanted to say...that I was sorry. About earlier." he let out a long breath. Sam looked over at him and Dean could feel his eyes measuring him so he continued, explaining, "About having Cas wake you up and dragging you into this mess." Sam would only nod as the two climbed out of the car and fixed their ties. Cas followed soon after and dusted himself off briskly, with a vigor that almost made him look like he was smacking something off of him. Dean reached over and stopped Cas before he hurt himself. "Looking good, G-Man." Dean smirked at Cas.

"Good to know, I suppose," he replied dryly, "Back to the case at hand, who am I?" he asked. Dean was taken aback by the question for a moment and Cas saw his confusion. "You have assumed names. I do not. I was wondering who I am today." His explanation made it clear to Dean and Sam what he was asking now. Dean's expression shifted and he considered it for a moment. Motioning for Cas to follow him to the back of the Impala he opened the trunk and shifted through the various weapons and relics until he reached a small wooden box. "Quite a collection you boast, Dean." Cas remarked. Dean felt himself flush with pride, but fought it back. It was nice to be noticed for what he was good at. Even if what he was good at was illegal in every single one of the fifty states.

As he went through the assorted collection of fake driver's licences, identifications, and badges he decided that today he was going to masquerade as the FBI. Checking through the various names he had for each agency he noticed there were none for Cas. Biting his lower lip he realized that if Cas was going to be tagging along more he would have to have new badges made for him. "How about we make you a new agent," he said handing Cas the one badge that didn't have any pictures on it, "and your name is Special Agent Jack Bauer." Dean said cautiously. He knew it was a long shot, but it might work with Cas' dry sense of humor and demeanor. Besides, people seldom called him out on his cover names. "Sam," he said handing Sam his badge, "you're Special Agent George Romero. And me? Well, I'm Special Agent Steve McQueen." he said beaming. Cas studied the badge and Sam shoved his in his breast pocket of his jacket and blew the hair out of his face. "Good, after you." Dean said motioning for his brother and the angel to venture ahead of him.

Sam led the trio to the office, climbed up the small collection of stone steps, and held the door for Dean and Cas. Dean could feel the same lack of excitement on Sam's face that he always had when confronting a corpse and was relieved that there were some things that never changed. Dean could feel the eyes of the employees as he walked through the office, occasionally flashing his badge, and making their way to the autopsy bays. Dean knew it wouldn't be long before he would have to actually talk to the attendant outside the bays and swallowed his hatred for such things.

"Hi," Sam said aloud to a young man who barely looked old enough to shave, "I'm Special Agent George Romero," he flashed his badge, "and this is Agent Bauer and Special Agent McQueen." he continued motioning to Cas and Dean; respectively. The young man looked at each of them and looked at their badges and checked his list. "We're interested in seeing the body from Gold and Silver," Sam replied, "if you could show us in." he said motioning for the young man to let them in.

The young man looked at Sam for a moment and cocked his head to the right. "You don't look much like FBI agents and you expect me to believe your name is George Romero? Really?" he asked almost laughing. Dean watched as Cas shifted uneasily on his heel. "No way," the young man replied reaching for the phone that was on his desk, "I'm calling the front desk and having them show you -" the man continued but was cut off as Cas reached across the desk and rested his index and middle finger on the young man's temple. Moments later the young man collapsed on the desk. Dean retracted as his friend shrugged. Dean shifted his weight uncomfortably. Sam could only stare blankly at the young attendant whom, second earlier, was threatening to report them but was now unconscious on the desk in front of him.

"What the hell was that?" Dean asked Cas, furious. Cas considered his answer for a moment, but Dean cut him off before he said anything. "I don't care what that was, Tommy Lee Jones. So long as you don't keep doing that and let us handle this type of thing." he said blowing Cas off and waving his hand. Sam had already swung around the desk and checked the list the attendant had to see which autopsy bay the victim would have been. "Where's our unlucky stiff, Sam?" Dean asked trying to maintain his cool after the whole ordeal with Cas moments earlier.

Sam looked up and checked around them. "Autopsy Bay Four," he replied motioning for the one about ten feet down the hall, "but there's something strange about it Dean." Dean shook his head and debated on whether or not he wanted to know what Sam was about to say. Deciding that he had no real choice in the matter he nodded to indicate to Sam to continue. "Well," he started, "there seems to be a second body." Sam said. Dean let the words hang in the air and tried to figure out what this meant to him and to the case. Second body? This was the type of surprise that Dean hated.

"Second," Cas inquired, "as in another body. This case is becoming more exciting than I could have ever thought." He spoke with an almost sing-song tone. Dean brought his index and middle fingers to the bridge of his nose and winced. "Well," Cas said again, completely oblivious to Dean's exasperation, "what are we waiting for? There's another body waiting for us." His voice was low and direct and Dean wanted to choke him more and more with each passing second. Sam could only roll his eyes.

"Second body," Dean mused as made his way to the autopsy room, "when did this one come in?"He turned to Sam as he halted at the door. He wanted to make sure he knew what he would be getting into before he walked in the room and started to grill the examiner. Sam shrugged and directed his attention to Cas who wore a look of confusion. "Guess we'll have to wing it." Dean said as he shoved open the door and walked in.

Inside the room the first thing Dean noticed was that there was a female body on the table; one that looked familiar to Dean, but he was unsure of where or how. From what Cas had mentioned the evening before the victim was male and had yet to be processed. Glancing to the wall clock he saw it was barely past eight in the morning and knew damn well there was no way the medical examiner could have done the autopsy that fast. "Can I help you?" a young brunette woman in scrubs asked, removing her face mask. Dean smiled his flashiest smile and shot his hand out. The woman looked at him quizzically. Dean shifted his weight and tried to keep his cool.

"I'm Agent Bauer!" Cas suddenly declared. Dean could feel his stomach sink and wrap itself in knots as his angel friend declared who he was pretending to be and in that moment he wanted to evaporate into the walls. "And I'm here to look upon the dead body you have there." he motioned to the body on the slab. Dean could only watch in absolute horror and Sam shifted his weight and shoved his hands in his pocket. Dean knew it would be up to him to make this make sense. "Mind if I take a look?" he asked walking over to the body.

"Who is he? Why is he touching the body?" the young doctor asked. Dean moved her off to the side and asked her what her name was. "I'm Doctor Angela Baker." the woman replied. Dean nodded and explained that what his companion was doing was looking for the cause of death. "I can tell you everything you want to know, but you have to get him away from that body before he contaminates it." she said pushing past Dean and back to Cas who was now running his hand over the dead woman's head. "Sir," she said directing her attention back to Cas now, "sir, I need to ask you to leave that body alone..." Her tone was direct and oozed authority.

Reaching out Cas touched the woman and within moments she was unconscious. Dean shot an angry look at Cas as Sam rushed over to catch the woman and rested her on the floor slowly. "What the fuck are you doing?" Sam asked. Cas blinked and looked over to the body on the table. Before Sam could say anything the body stirred and sat up. Jumping back Dean drew his weapon, keeping Sam in his sights he saw that his brother had followed suit. "Dean," Sam shouted to his brother, "what the hell is this?" he asked. Dean had no idea, but he knew there was no time to waste on trying to figure it out.


	5. Where Angels Fear to Tread

_**Chapter Five:  
**__**Where Angels Fear to Tread**_

Cas knew he would need a distraction. He must speak to the woman on the table, but there would be no way of doing it with the annoying woman distracting himself and Dean. "I'm Agent Bauer!" he declared with as much vigor as he could muster. He watched as Dean's expression shifted to one of shock and the woman directed her attention to him. "And I'm here to look upon the dead body you have there," he continued motioning to the corpse a few feet from where he was standing, "mind if I take a look?" He moved towards the the corpse, not waiting for an answer. Watching as Dean intercepted the woman and Sam made himself scarce he went on with his task. He couldn't understand his friend's brother's actions, but he knew it must have something to do with his own ostentatious action.

Cas quirked his brow in confusion because upon close inspection he could see that the woman showed no visible signs of death. There were no bite marks, no wounds, and nothing to indicate that she was expired. "Strange," he said to himself as he examined the female's body closer, "there's nothing you can tell me." he mused. Taking a moment to consider his options, he listened as Dean explained that Cas was looking for the cause of death. There was a brief moment of silence as Cas thought about correcting Dean's assumptions, but thought the better of it and went back to discerning the task in front of him. Then it dawned upon him how to continue, but he knew it would be dangerous.

Checking to see how much time he would have to work with, he noticed that Dean was still trying to distract the woman. "He's one of the best new agents that we have on staff, I assure you..." he heard Dean say and Cas couldn't help but beam for a brief moment. The thought that Dean thought so highly of him was enough to make him feel better about having brought this upon them, but he quickly returned to his work at hand. Running his hands along the dead woman's flesh he could feel her hum slightly; almost as if there was still some small bit of spark left in her body. Satisfied, he drew close and listened for a brief moment to what Dean was saying. "Ma'am, really..."

Cas knew that he didn't have much time left and rested his hand upon the woman's head and whispered to himself. "Talitha cumi," he spoke with a soft cadence that he was sure no one else had heard in the room, "talitha cumi." He could feel the soft hum becoming louder now in the woman as he whispered a second time, and he smiled softly to himself. His moment of glory would soon be lost, however, as the one who dealt with the dead approached him and asked him to leave the dead woman alone. Knowing he needed more time to make this work he reached out his hand and touched the doctor's head. "Forgive me, Angela." he said as she became limp and started to drop to the floor.

Sam moved swiftly and caught her, however, before she reached the floor. "What the fuck are you doing?" he shouted at Cas. Cas wanted to explain, but he didn't know how. Before he could open his mouth to say anything the dead woman on the table stirred and started to move. He knew that the incantation was doing what he was expecting, but he didn't have time to explain to Sam and Dean what to expect. Without a moment's hesitation he saw Dean draw his weapon and train it on the woman who was inanimated moments earlier. "Dean," Sam shouted to Dean as Cas watched him draw his weapon and match aim, "what the hell is this?"

It didn't take long before Dean fired a shot at the woman. "Get back," he shouted, waving his free hand at Cas who was now moving closer to the dead woman, "Cas, I can't shoot her if you're in the way!" he shouted training his weapon on her again. Cas knew he would have to explain but now wasn't the time. The need for information outweighed the desire for explanations. "Cas!" Dean shouted. Cas swallowed the lump in his throat and turned around, throwing his hands up, and moved closer to Dean. "Don't you Tommy Lee Jones me!" he spoke slowly, the unmistakable tension in his tone coming through. Cas tilted his head slightly trying to make sense of what Dean meant by 'Tommy Lee Jones.'

"Dean," Cas stated as he drew closer, "I need you to trust me and not to shoot this woman. I know what this looks like and I know what you're instincts will tell you, but I need you to listen to me." Cas tried reasoning with his friend as the dead woman inched closer to the three of them. Cas turned for a moment, motioning that he meant no harm to Sam and Dean, and touched the dead woman's head. The woman fell limp, no sound escaping from her lips. "Now," he said turning back to the Winchesters, "do I have your attention?" There was a tense silence as Sam and Dean shot each other concerned looks.

Sam was the first to show Cas a sign of acceptance. He raised his right hand and cocked his Taurus PT-92 to its side to show he wouldn't be shooting. Cas nodded and waited as Dean followed Sam's gesture. "We're listening," Sam said aloud blowing the hair out of his eyes, "what's the deal, Cas?" Cas watched as Dean kept an eye on the dead woman who was still resting on the floor. Dean looked over to Sam. Cas found it difficult to focus with the distrust building in the room around him. In the distance he heard the soft drip of a sink, accentuating the impending silence.

"I fear we don't have much time," Cas explained looking down to the dead woman, "and I was attempting to extract the required information from this woman." Sam and Dean looked at one another and tried to decode what Cas was saying. Cas let out a sigh and continued. "This woman might be able to help our investigation. Now, before you let your female doctor interrupt," Cas said directing his attention to the unconscious doctor on the floor, "I noticed that this woman's body was unharmed. There was no viable cause of death. This meant that no matter how much your doctor friend tried she would only find that this woman died of unnatural causes."

Dean blinked several times, trying to process the information. "So, what you're saying is this woman up and died?" Dean asked, confusion seething under his voice. "More important - what does this have to do with her becoming _Night of the Living Dead_?" Cas retained his posture and watched as the elder Winchester replaced his weapon. "That's what I would like to know right now; what caused this." Dean's eyes darted back and forth between the dead woman and Cas. Sam, Cas had noticed, was remaining unusually silent through the whole ordeal.

"Look Dean," Cas reasoned, "I don't have the time to explain to you what caused this woman to suddenly become...what was it you called it? The walking dead? All you need to know is that this woman is not, in fact, what she seems to be." The angel tried to explain to the brothers as he walked back to where the woman was and led her back to the table. "The only thing you need to know about this woman is that she is of no threat to you. The answers we seek are with the other corpse." Cas walked over to the lockers that were on the other side of the room and unlatched one with the number six inscribed on the door. "This," he motioned for the brothers to follow, "is the man we came for."

Sam and Dean relaxed and walked across the room to see what Cas was looming over. "Holy shit," Dean exclaimed looking at the body, "what the hell did this?" he asked, confused and mortified. Cas looked down at the corpse. It was male, with wisps of light brunette hair still attached to small spots of scalp. One hazel eye remained, the other missing with a black void left where it should have been. "Cas this isn't," Dean swallowed hard, "this isn't like anything we have ever dealt with." Cas watched as Dean scanned over the mangled face. Patches of skin remained, one below the left eye, a shred dangling from his mouth, and the undeniable stench of death. Sam retracted, standing several feet away. "Cover it." Dean said moving his hand to meet Cas' and shifted the cover over the body.

"This is what we came for," Cas replied scanning Dean's face, "this is what will tell us what we are looking for." Dean nodded and covered his nose. Sam excused himself for a moment and left Dean with Cas. Cas took the chance to speak directly to Dean. "Dean, I am sorry about making you look upon this, but I knew from what the dead woman had told me that this would be of more use. I am also trying to understand your distrust of me. It's quite unnerving." his tone was bordering on robotic. Dean cocked his head and sighed loudly.

"Distrust? You think this I'm distrusting you? That couldn't be -" Dean fumed throwing his hands up in the air, "look, Cas...you Jedi Mind Tricked the poor receptionist, the nice young doctor there, and then you whisper sweet nothings in a dead woman's ear and she becomes a fucking Romero movie! How am I supposed to react? Frosty swirl and sunshine?" Dean shouted. Cas watched as he paced back and forth resting his right hand on his hip and running his left through his short hair. "This is a lot to take in, Cas. That's all. I'm out there trying to make shit right with Sam and you're telling me about dead bodies. So, yeah. I'm a bit upset. Distrusting, even." Cas shifted his weight uncomfortably and focused on what Dean was saying.

"Dean, I am sorry." Cas replied dully. Dean nodded to himself and moved back to the corpse, uncovering it and examining the markings. Cas drifted closer. "It doesn't appear to be like anything we - you - have encountered before. But, what it does look like..."Cas allowed his voice to trail allowing for Dean to make the leap himself. Dean looked up and locked eyes with Cas. "...it does seem to be..." Cas tried to make Dean say it, but he could tell he would have to do all the work. "It looks like a Leviathan attack." he said, finally.

"Leviathan?" Dean asked sounding more confused than Cas figured he would have been. "This doesn't seem to be an attack by a Leviathan. Besides, from what I understand once we sent Dick on a one way expense paid trip to Purgatory it was over. The rest had died out or left town." Cas could hear Dean losing sense of what he was saying. "God, what the hell?" he said resting his hand on the metal tray the body was sitting on. "I thought those bastards were done for."

The sound of Sam re-entering the room was met with a loud report from the door closing. Cas remained still, but Dean almost jumped out of his skin. "Sorry about that," he said joining Cas and Dean, "what I miss?" Cas looked over to Dean who was now chewing on the data that Cas had offered. Cas knew it wasn't his place to inform Sam of the discovery, but he knew that if Dean wouldn't he would have to. "What?" he asked with a shrug. Dean rested his hand on Sam's shoulder and told him about what Cas had said. "Leviathan? They're dead. All of them, right?" he asked looking over to Cas.

"It would appear that some might have survived." Cas replied finally trying to soften the blow. "But we can't know for sure. But from what I am looking at and what I know...I can only conclude that this is the work of the Leviathans." Cas reported. Dean looked over to Sam who was looking pallid. Cas wanted to reach out and help, but he knew it would be of no use. "I am sorry."

"Great," Dean stated, "now we have a Leviathan killing off clients in a strip club. See, that doesn't make any sense, Cas. I don't see how that would do they anything. And Roanoke? What about Roanoke? It's a small city in Virginia. There's nothing to be gained from this shit-hole. So, what do they want? Need? What?" Dean asked trying to work it out. Cas considered for a moment. His attention was broken as the young doctor was coming to. "Shit!" Dean said to no one. "Cas, I need to know more than that. I have to know more." he repeated.

Moments later Cas vanished.


	6. Sam, Leviathans, and Digital Recordings

_**Chapter Six:  
**__**Sam, Leviathans, and Digital Recordings**_

Sam and Dean exited the Roanoke County Morgue with more than they had expected. Sam was able to smooth things over with both the receptionist Cas had knocked unconscious and Dr. Baker by explaining that the male victim, Robert Conrad, had been working for the CIA and the reason neither one of them had used their real names was because he was involved in a top secret case. Sam couldn't believe both had bought the explanation, but the relief was enough to cause him to celebrate. "Now we have a lead," Sam said looking over to Dean as they broke out in the fresh air, "and an idea of what we might be dealing with, but I'm still kind of leery about this being Leviathan."

"You think Cas was lying?" Dean mused as they walked down the small set of stairs and back to the Impala, "I mean, I like to believe we can trust him, but something doesn't quite sit right about this being a Leviathan attack." Sam watched as Dean fixed his tie and closed the small manila folder he had been carrying out of the morgue. "I don't know," he said reaching down to open the door on the Impala, "call Garth and see what he can find. Also, read this damn thing. I can't read and drive and besides, I know how much you love those babies." Dean smiled as he handed Sam the file and climbed in the car. Sam sighed and joined his brother.

The ride back to the motel was a silent one. Sam found himself trying to make sense of what he had seen back in the morgue and with what Dean had told him about Cas. There was still some confusion about what had actually happened when Cas touched the woman from the club and the reason for his unexpected departure, but Sam knew it was best to let that hang. If Dean wanted to talk about it he would sit down and talk, but the chances of that happening were slim. Instead Sam sent a text to Garth and waited. If there was any chance it was a Leviathan, Garth would know.

"Dean," Sam broke his silence for the first time since they had left the morgue, "you're driving by the motel!" Dean glanced over to Sam and smirked. Sam could feel his stomach become a lexicon of knots as Dean coated the Impala by the motel. "Dean! The motel..." Sam tried to reason with his brother, but he found it was of little use. Dean seemed to know what he was doing. "What gives?" Sam asked again, this time adding a hint of concern to his voice.

Dean shot Sam another look and returned his attention back to the road. "Sam," he said finally, "I think you're right about Cas." Sam cocked his head and leaned forward. This was unlike Dean. Something was wrong. "And I'm not sure where his angelic ass ran off to, but we're not about to wait around for him to show up, offer excuses, and leave us to question...what's her damn name? The dead guy's wife..." Dean said snapping his fingers trying to jolt his memory. "Check the notes."

Sam checked the manila folder and ran his finger along the page. "Courtney." he replied. Dean nodded and directed his attention back to the road. "Married for six years, no children, and they both live in Hunting Hills." Sam explained as Dean checked around for something to let him know where he was. The younger brother checked his cell and brought up a local map. "We're not that far from there now, Dean. You can cross this road here and it's about ten minutes from there." he said pointing to the road his brother was about to drive by. Dean slowed down swiftly and Sam almost shot forward. "Would you stop doing that? I would like to live long enough to see Amelia again." Dean scoffed.

Dean couldn't help the scoff that had emerged. He turned his attention back to the road. Sam's mind, though, was occupied with what Dean had said about Cas lying to him. Sam had felt like something was wrong with Cas since he had shown up at the club and asked to speak to Dean. It wasn't like him to come to Sam first. That was the first red flag that had went off in Sam's head. He wasn't about to push the issue, though, and cause a bigger rift between himself and Dean so he shoved the feeling down and went on like there was nothing wrong. Now that Dean was questioning their otherworldly friend brought everything to the front now. "Dean," Sam cut through the silence like a sword through flesh, "I have a better idea. Head back to the club. I know how we can tell if Cas is lying or not." Dean looked over to him, confused.

"Oh, and what's this brilliant idea you have, Bones?" Dean quipped. Sam was taken aback for a moment as he scanned his mind for the cultural reference Dean was making, but drew a blank. Shaking it off he went back to his cell and checked for a map to lead them back to the club. "What are you looking for? Who Bones is?" Dean asked. Sam could hear the old mocking tone lurking under the sarcasm that was oozing out of his elder brother's mouth.

Sam shot Dean a mock laugh. "No," he said with a heavy sigh, "I was trying to figure out how to take us back to Gold and Silver." Dean shifted in his seat and looked over to Sam, confused. "If Cas is lying about it being a Leviathan it won't show up on the feed. If it's something else, a skin-walker or something, it will show up on the feed. You following me?" Sam asked, playing on Dean's less than stellar ability to pay attention to what was being said once he mentioned returning to the club.

"Yes," Dean shot back defensively, "I follow exactly what you're saying. Boobs, Sam. You're talking about boobs." Sam blew the hair from his eyes and rested his face in his palm. He couldn't even begin to believe what Dean was saying. It was too much for him to handle. "What? You said you wanted to check the video feed for the club to see if this thing shows up or not." Dean deadpanned. "Just have to find out when that Conrad dude was there last. What, three nights back?" Sam checked the file again to see when he was brought in. "It wasn't too long ago and gentleman's clubs keep their footage on hand for sixty days." Dean offered, beaming.

"I don't even want to know how you know that," Sam said leaning back in his seat, "but that's the basic idea behind what I was saying, yes." Sam felt a small sense of relief wash over him. He often felt like Dean wasn't listening to him. "Now, seeing as how you know your way back to the club I feel like I'm not needed. I'm going to check some more details from this case." Sam replied returning his attention back to the case in his hand.

It didn't take long to return back to the club. As the Winchesters rolled to a stop they noticed that the stout bouncer whom they had encountered earlier was outside having a smoke. Sam looked away and ran his left hand through his hair. Dean pulled in the parking spot and shut the Impala down. "There's the bouncer from the other night," Dean noted, "I really wish he wasn't out here right now. This complicates things." Dean said looking in the backseat. Sam shot him a confused look. "I was wondering if Cas was about to climb out of his apartment in my ass." Dean replied matter-of-factly.

"Cas has an apartment in your ass?" the younger brother asked extremely confused and then actually thought about what he was asking. But Dean was already waving him off and returned his attention back to the man standing outside the club. "What's the plan? How do we deal with Patrick Swayze over there?" he asked trying to use a pop culture reference that Dean would know. Dean looked at him for a moment, almost as if he had a third head, and returned his attention back the bouncer. "Do we take him? Lie?" Sam was running through the options in his head and none of them seemed to end well in any way possible.

Sam watched as the bouncer tossed his cigarette on the ground, snuffing it out, and walked over to one of the other vehicles parked in the parking lot. Dean looked over to his brother and shrugged. "I'll take it."he said watching the bouncer turn over his car and leave. Collecting the file Sam and Dean climbed out of the car and walked to the massive oak door.

Once inside they noticed that there was another bouncer, this one taller and more muscular than the last, and let out a sigh. "FBI." Dean said showing him his badge. The muscular man looked over at Sam as he flashed him his badge. "We need to speak to the man in charge."

The bouncer seemed to mull over the request. "You said you're with the FBI?" he asked. Sam and Dean nodded and showed him their badges a second time. "I'm sorry, it's just strange seeing you guys came up in here looking for Mr. Michaels. Is it about the deaths?" he asked keeping his voice low. Dean seemed taken aback by the question, but Sam was ready for it. "I mean, I don't think he's done much of anything wrong and the only big stuff happening around here is the murders; deaths; whatever the hell you would call them."

"Yes, it's about the two recent deaths," Sam replied shoving his badge back in his coat and ushering the three of them ahead, "and we would really love it if we could speak to your boss or the owner of this club? Can you help us with that?" The bouncer let out a long, exhausted sigh, and led the brothers into the main room before he stopped them. He asked for a moment while he brought the boss down. "All we need to do is check the feeds and we should know right off if Cas is lying or not." Sam repeated for what must have been the six hundredth time as Dean watched some of the girls walking around. Sam wanted to smack his brother upside the head, but refrained.

"Hello, hello, Gentleman!" boomed a voice so loud it almost knocked Sam over. His attention was directed to the short man who had his hand shot out in greeting. He stood about five foot three inches, had straight black hair cut close, and a smile that could have been Dean's. "I am Elliott Richard Michaels and this is my club. How can I help the FBI?" he inquired shaking the brother's hands. Sam glanced over to Dean, who was more than enjoying himself taking in the sights.

But as if a switch had been turned he was instantly back in the conversation and speaking first, "We would like to take a look at your surveillance tapes from the evenings of the murders." Dean kept his cool and Sam nodded, playing the silent partner. It was a tactic that the two of them had honed in over years of practice and not having Cas around to screw it up made the task at hand so much easier. "Once we have those we would like to be alone to review them, as this case might involve something that's sensitive and we wouldn't want you to be implicated without reason." Dean explained as Mr. Michaels showed them to the feed room. Inside was a small, pudgy, almost round man watching about ten screens. "Out Smeagol." Dean said, his voice gruff.

Sam choked back a laugh as the man hung his head and left. "Thank you, Mr. Michaels, this is all we'll need for now." the younger Winchester said ushering the owner out. Looking back to Dean he set the case down on the desk in front of them. "Okay, we need the tapes from Tuesday and one from Thursday evening." Dean was already scanning through the DVDs labeled with each night. "The first should be about eight thirty and the other should be just after ten." Sam explained as he ejected the disc that was currently being played. Dean tossed him the first and the brothers waited for it to come on. "Are you ready?"

"What? To see if Cas is playing 'Hide the Leviathan'?" Dean asked sarcastically. "I'm pretty sure I can handle what's on this tape, Sam. But thank you for asking." He directed his attention to the feed as they watched Conrad being led to the room with one of the dancers. "Oh, in case it should come up, my safe word is 'apples'." Dean laughed to himself as Sam shot him an extremely confused look. Sam had no idea what that was about, but figured it had something to do with his hopes that he still might be able to unwind and find a woman - case or no case. "Hey, Sam, look at this."

Sam leaned in to look at what Dean was trying to show him on the screen. The woman was there and so was Conrad, but it seemed like there was something else in the room as well. That is, until he looked closer and saw that the woman's head had titled back to reveal a bi-furcated tongue and a mouthful of razor sharp teeth. "Cas might have been right..." Sam mumbled as he watched the woman eat the man, tearing at his flesh, removing it little by little. Sam could feel his appetite fading as he continued to watch. And then he saw something that he wasn't expecting. "...the fuck..." he whispered as Dean saw the same thing.

The woman, while she attacked Conrad like a Leviathan, was anything but. As she shifted her weight and left the room the brothers watched as the feed became static ridden and the woman's image began to fade in and out, much like a spirit might, but it was much faster. Reaching down to slow the frame rate Sam saw that it wasn't a Leviathan, spirit, or skin-walker. It was something neither he nor Dean had ever encountered before. "I don't know what the fuck that thing is, Sam, but I do know that is not a Leviathan." Dean said with finality. All the brothers could do was stare in disbelief at the creature they were looking at. It was unlike anything they had ever seen.


	7. There's Something About Rosie

_**Chapter Seven:  
**__**There's Something About Rosie**_

Trent watched as the sun went down over the small city of Roanoke, Virginia and tossed his cigarette on the parking lot. It was almost eight o'clock and his ex-wife, Olivia, had still not called him back about this child support claim she was taking out against him. Glancing over he saw that Rosie McNally, one of the dancers and his friend, was standing next to him finishing her cigarette. "What's wrong, Trent?" she asked softly. Trent looked down and let out a labored sigh. Reaching into his shirt pocket he removed the pack of Marlboro's and took out another smoke, but before he could light it Rosie had taken it from him. "No more." She spoke with a firm tone that made the stout man reconsider.

"Aw, I'm sorry" he replied dully, "I'm thinking about my brother's hearing and that bitch of an ex-wife I have who hasn't had the courtesy to call me back yet. She knows it ain' my fucking kid and she knows I ain' doing much work right now." Rosie listened with a friendly ear. That was what Trent had liked about her so much. She was young, sweet, and when she listened to someone talk about their troubles you knew she wasn't blowing you off. "I don't know what to do." he continued, reaching in his jeans for his lighter and struck it a few times before it lit. It was a habit fed on by stress and one hell back on regularly. "What do you think?" he asked Rosie who was now clutching her leather coat close to her body.

Rosie mulled over the question for a few moments before answering. Trent watched as the wheels cranked in her brunette head and smiled to himself. "I think you need a better woman in your life," she replied finally, "but then, but then you and I both could." She finished the last of her cigarette and watched as Trent blew out a cloud of smoke. "You should know better than that." she noted, eyeing the cigarette in his hand. Trent laughed so hard he coughed and looked at the cigarette in his fingers. "But you won't listen to me, so what's the point?" Trent could tell she was becoming frustrated and dropped the second smoke before he had a chance to even take more than two drags on it.

"I should quit," Trent replied hating that she was getting on him for his smoking when she smoked almost as much as he did, "but you should, too. And you're beyond right about us both needing a new woman in our lives. Speaking of which, how's things with Cheryl?" Trent had never thought much of Cheryl, because well...he wasn't dating her - Rosie was. Rosie faked a smile and drew her coat even closer. For a moment Trent wondered if it could be drawn closer or if it would cause her beautiful and perky breasts to explode. It was an image that was hard to erase from his mind as he watched his friend shift her weight in an attempt to keep warm. "There's another coat in my car if you need one, Rose." Rosie smiled, but said nothing.

"Thank you, Trent, but I'm alright. Break is almost over as it is." She finally replied as Trent shifted all of his weight to the right and started walking back to the front door. "You're too kind, Trent." she said as she walked through the front door and tried to hold the second set of doors for him. "But too much of a gentleman to let a lady hold a door for you, huh?" Trent smiled boyishly and went through. Once through the door he noticed that Simon was on the bar tonight and felt a wave of relief wash over him. He hated when Kevin had bar because nothing would ever be sent his way when he needed a shot or two. "Have a drink on me."

In the distance Trent could hear Lady GaGa telling him that she wanted his loving, she wanted his revenge, and the two of them could write a bad romance. "You wish," he said aloud to GaGa, "or I do. I haven't quite been able to figure that out." Sitting down at the bar he saw Simon slide over to him. "The usual." He spoke to the man. Simon bounced off to make a Gin and Tonic as Trent spun on the chair and watched Rosie climb on stage and do her thing. Groups of men would hoot and holler at her, never knowing that she could have cared two fucks about them. She hadn't been with a man since she was sixteen and decided that women were much better lovers in bed. "Fools." Trent said to himself and directed his attention back to Simon and the bar.

As the music carried on his mind was directed to the strange deaths that had been happening in his club. It was something that he knew about, but didn't allow himself to reflect upon too much. It wasn't his place to worry about such things. Still, it bothered him all the same. "Gin and Tonic," Simon said resting a glass in front of Trent before asking, "anything else you want?" he asked. Trent thought about it for a moment and went about nursing his drink. He could let Daniel cover for him a bit longer. Besides, if those two FBI men showed up again it would fall on Daniel to deal with them a second time. Mr. Michaels had made it clear that those two were not to be allowed back in unless they were coming in as paying customers. Bad for business, Trent had figured.

"Trent." came a familiar female voice from behind him. Trent spun around to see who it was and found himself face to face with Rachel Wilson, one of the dancers. "You look like you could use a friend. I know I could." she said softly taking a seat next to him. Simon showed up as if on command and asked what she wanted. "Sex on the Beach, if you don't mind." She smiled, a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes and directed her attention back to Trent who was still nursing his Gin and Tonic. "You hear about Danielle?" she asked, her voice breaking with emotion as she spoke her dead lover's name.

"I have," he said sullenly, "I don't know how to express how sorry I am about that. I heard the FBI was looking now, though. Some small comfort. But Elliott says they ain' supposed to be allowed back in. That's confusing." he mused taking a sip of his tonic. Rachel leaned close and offered Trent a hug before directing her attention to Rosie on the stage. "Rosie's looking." Rachel laughed so hard Simon thought she was crying and brought a box of tissues with her drink. She waved the tissues back, but took the drink with a grin. "What you drinking?"

"Sex on the Beach. Why are you trying to hook me and Rosie up?" Trent could see that it had hurt Rachel's feelings more than he had meant to. He shrugged and continued to make love to his drink. "I know you mean well, Trent, but Danielle's body isn't even cold yet. God, it's difficult even saying that." she muttered now turning her attention to the drink in her hands. Trent watched as she traced the rim of the glass and fumbled with removing a cigarette from her purse. Trent offered his lighter and smiled a weak smile. "Thank you."

And like that, she had left him. Trent found himself once again alone with his thoughts and his drink. As his mind drifted he checked to see if Heather had called. Nothing. Cursing her under his breath, he spun back around in his chair as he heard Nine Inch Nail's "Closer" come over the speakers. This was the one act that Rosie did that drove him crazy and made him secretly wish that she wasn't a dyke. He listened as the music grew louder, the beat more rhythmic, and could feel the intensity of the crowd becoming almost too much to handle. _Help me...I've got no soul to sell, help me...the only thing that works for me...help me get away from myself - I wanna fuck you like an animal..._echoed through the room as Rosie started her dance.

Slowly, Rosie brought her hands to the shaft in the middle of the stage and wrenched her hands around it. Trent could see her knuckles becoming white from the tension from her grip. Lowering her body, inch by inch, she would reveal a little more. First she rolled her fingers along the delicate flesh on her breasts, tracing the edges of the red straps, teasing with each new riff. Trent could hear the other men becoming wild, as they always would, and watched as she bit her lower lip and let the first side of her bra strap fall. "Shit." Trent whispered so low even he had trouble hearing himself. It didn't take long before the second fell along her delicate skin and nothing was holding her bra up but the clasp in the back.

Moments later he watched as she reached behind herself and unclasped the bra and the room roared with intensity. Trent almost spit up his drink, but was able to catch himself before he blew everything all over himself. He hadn't noticed how perfect her breasts were until now, and looking at them, there was absolutely nothing a man could find fault with...or a woman for that matter. "Mother of God." he said to himself as she dropped to her knees and crawled forward. Money flew out of the men's hands as she collected it slowly, teasingly, and drew back from the front of the stage. Trent knew that he would have to hurry to the back if he wanted to see her before she went back out in twenty minutes. He had a few things he wanted to talk to her about.

Shuffling beyond the breathing throngs of desperation and sweat Trent made his way to the back room where Rosie was. As he approached the door to her dressing - or undressing, depending on how you looked at it - room he hesitated. It was strangely silent. "Rosie?" he called out and waited for an answer. Several seconds later he heard her shout something, he thought it might have been to hold on a moment, and then some shuffling. Shifting on his weight he waited.

As he waited he felt his cell vibrating. "Hello," he said into the cell, "what do you fucking want?" The voice on the other end of the line seemed to only frustrate him more. "You can tell your cunt of a sister I don't care what her deal is. I'm not paying for her bastard son from some douche I don't even know." He was shouting now and hung up before he said something worse. Tina had a way of bringing out his dark side even more than her good for nothing sister Olivia.

"Come in!" Rosie shouted as Trent was about to call Olivia directly. He knew it would be better to blow off some steam with Rosie than it would be to verbally abuse his ex wife for being a total slut. "I'm finished." Trent opened the door and entered. The room was a bright color red, with a small couch and vast floor to ceiling mirror. He often wondered how Rosie had managed to end up with such a lavish room, but she was the star attraction. Michaels liked to keep her happy and she kept him rolling in the money. It was, Trent figured, a fair trade. "Why hello, Trent." she said with a smile that brightened up the already bright room.

Trent looked down at the floor and tried to find his words. Rosie walked over to a small cart and poured him a Gin. Handing him the glass he took it from her delicate hand and sat on her couch. Resting the glass against his temple he sighed. "Olivia." he said finally. Rosie sat down next to him and stroked his crew cut hair. "She's being a total bitch and having her cunt - sorry, I know how much you hate me saying that about a woman, but she is one - of a sister call me. But that isn't why I'm here." Taking a sip he rested the glass on the table next to the couch.

"That's so sad," Rosie said touching him gently on the cheek, "I'm really sorry about that." Trent nodded and rested his head on her shoulder. Rosie smiled and continued to coo at her friend. "Tell you what. I'm almost off and you should be. If not, Daniel can take over, we can take some time out and we can bitch about those bitches that drive us crazy." she said resting her hand on Trent's thigh. Trent shifted his weight and took another drink from his Gin; this time it was a gulp. "Or we could stay here and have something to eat." Rosie wore a grin that Trent had never seen before.

As Trent went to stand up, Rosie tilted her head to the left and forced him down. Straddling him she held her hands against his shoulders so he couldn't move. Trent tried to scream but it was no use. Rosie's smile had become a mouthful of razors as she threw her head down across his neck. Trent could feel the warmth of his own blood trickle down his neck, and the sudden chill as her tongue lapped it up with a vigor he had never seen or felt before. "Help me..." he managed to choke out, but it was too late. He could feel the life escaping from him as his friend sucked it right out of him.


	8. Let's Give the Boy a Hand

_**Chapter Eight:  
**__**Let's Give the Boy a Hand**_

Dean looked over at Sam and could stop himself from wincing. This was a meeting that he hadn't been looking forward to, but knew he couldn't avoid it. As he watched the old Ford Ranchero rumble closer he could feel his stomach churning and turned to Sam, who was standing uncomfortably next to him. "Sam, I'm not saying this was a bad idea," Dean muttered to his younger brother as the truck rolled to a stop, "but it was a bad idea." Sam cocked his head to the side and bit his lower lip. Dean knew he should have tried to run down other leads, but somewhere in his heart, he knew that Garth would still be his best option in finding out what the hell he was dealing with, like it or not. "A very bad idea." Dean reiterated as Garth climbed out of the truck with the biggest grin Sam and Dean had ever seen him wear.

"Sam! Dean!" he shouted to the Winchesters as he drew closer. Sam swallowed and Dean shifted his weight at the enthusiastic greeting. "I was hoping we would cross paths again." Garth said as he threw his arms around Sam. Dean watched as Sam slowly brought his arms around Garth. "Dean," Garth greeted with a cock of his head, his signature grin in place before moving in to offer him a hug, "I have missed working with you. Both of you! I was so happy when I received Sam's text that I jumped right in my truck and mosied on down here." he explained holding tighter onto Dean. Dean mouthed 'mosied' to Sam and watched as his brother fought his amusement. And finally Garth was withdrawing. Dean let out a long sigh of relief and waited for Garth to share what he had found. "Can we head in? It's kind of chilly out here." Garth shivered. Dean nodded and led him to the motel room.

"So," Sam started as Dean took a seat on one of the beds, "what were you able to find?" Garth smirked and sat across from Dean on the bed. Sam took a seat next to his brother and waited while their visitor sorted through a file that looked like it weighed more than he did. "Garth, we know it wasn't a Leviathan attack...so you can skip over that." Sam offered. Garth looked up, confused, and returned to checking the file he had brought along with him. "Garth?" Sam was becoming frustrated and Dean watched as his brother tried his best to conceal his emotions.

Garth rested the file next himself on the bed and focused on the brothers. "You're half right, Sam. The Leviathans are no longer in the big picture, but there are a few running around." Garth explained as Dean felt himself becoming sick. "But I have a few other hunters on that. No worries. But what you're dealing with isn't a Leviathan so you can rest easy on that." he continued with a smile. Dean wanted to smack the life out of the scrawny man sitting across from him, but he had information that he needed, so he exercised his restraint. "Right, so while it isn't a Leviathan, it isn't anything that I have had a chance to come across and I don't think even Bobby did. I did some research and there's nothing in his journal about it. Nothing like that." Sam shifted his weight on the bed and let out a labored sigh. Garth reached over to his file and removed an image.

"This looks like the stripper from the feed last night." Dean said taking the image from Garth. Garth nodded and motioned for him to read the time stamps. "It says that this was taken last night a few hours after we left."The elder Winchester was confused now. "Garth, you're going to have to be clear on this one. What the hell am I looking at?" he asked directly. Sam stood up and walked over to the door. "Sam!" Dean shouted, but it was too late. Sam had left the room. It was now Dean and Garth, alone. "This isn't one bit awkward." Dean mumbled to himself. Garth looked hurt for a moment. "Oh, this has nothing to do with you, Garth. Sam and I are having trouble." he explained.

"Yeah, you both seemed a bit on edge." Garth noted. Dean felt a chill course through him. Was it so obvious that even someone like Garth could notice? "Moving on, to answer your question, that isn't a Leviathan and it isn't anything I'm familiar with. But..." Garth said placing emphasis on the 'but', "...but I know someone, local, who might know what you're dealing with. You can thank me later, but I already let him know to expect you." Garth said handing Dean a card. Dean looked down at the card and tried to hide his annoyance. "Just call him up and let him know Garth sent you. He should have some idea of what that is." Garth said pointing to the image.

"Thank you, Garth." Dean said checking the name. He wasn't sure if Garth was screwing with him or not, but the name on the card didn't seem like anyone he knew or had even come across in all his years as a hunter. Ryan Brendan. "I'll be sure to call Mr. Brendan and ask him what this might be." he said standing up and leading Garth to the door. Garth looked a bit unsettled by the haste, but Dean needed a few minutes of alone time. "I'll see you soon, Garth." Dean said ushering him out the door. Garth turned around and offered Dean one last hug before leaving. Reluctantly Dean accepted and, for the first time since he had been thrown on the case, felt okay about it. "We'll be in touch!" Dean shouted to Garth as he climbed in the truck. "...and off you are."

Dean returned to the motel room and tossed the card on the table between the two beds. What was Sam thinking in bringing Garth in on this? "Sam, Sam, Sam!" Dean said aloud as he ran a hand through his hair. He was becoming more frustrated with each passing moment. This was the last thing he wanted when he set out to make things right between them. "Where did you run off to Sam?" Dean wondered aloud. It wasn't like Sam to leave without much notice and he had been doing so quite a lot these last few days. "Sam!" Dean shouted half expecting him to be lurking behind the door, but there was no answer and there was no Sam.

Dean was about to head out and look for Sam when he felt a slight breeze blow from behind him. Spinning around he saw that Cas was standing behind him, looking confused. "Dean." Cas seemed to be concerned about something, but what it was Dean couldn't tell. Folding his arms he waited for Cas to explain himself. "Dean, I'm sorry about having to lie to you about the case." Dean shifted his weight and offered his friend a cross look. "I couldn't tell you. I can't tell you." he mumbled under his breath. Dean continued to stare at him and waited for a response. "Dean, please understand -"

"Understand what? You're lying to me now? You're running off without a moment's notice when shit hits the fan? Understand what, Cas?" Dean shouted. Cas retracted back a few feet and considered what Dean was saying to him now. "You know what? I don't care. I have enough to deal with. You can have your lies, your deceit, and your meetings with Sam." Dean's voice oozed with a judgmental tone. Cas continued to chew on Dean's words. "So, what the hell am I to understand Cas? Spill it. Right here. Right now. Or I swear to God I'm walking out of that fucking door."

Dean watched as Cas chose his words before speaking. "I'm asking you to understand what I'm saying and believe me when I tell you that if I am lying to you, it's for the best. That's what I'm asking of you, Dean. You have to trust me on this." Cas offered trying to ease the conversation. Dean continued to seethe and paced back and forth. Cas sighed. "Dean, I wouldn't lie to you unless I had a reason. And believe me when I tell you that I have a reason." Cas defended himself.

"I need to know that reason, Cas. If I am to trust you about this you need to offer me something to help me trust you." Dean said standing in front of Cas now. Cas locked eyes with Dean as he scanned his friend's face. "I want to trust you, Cas. I do, but you have to show me something." Dean sat back down and waited for Cas to follow. "You can sit down." He motioned to the bed across from him but the angel simply glanced over and remained standing. "Don't sit down, Cas." Dean said hoping that this would make his angelic friend have a seat. Nothing happened. Letting out a frustrated sigh Dean stood and folded his arms again.

"Dean, you have to trust me on this. This is so much bigger than you know or believe it to be and if I am lying to you, you have to know there's a reason for it." Cas reasoned. Cas was about to say something else when the sound of the door opening cut him short. Dean's attention was directed at the figure that was standing in the doorway. "Sam." Cas said looking over to Sam who was now in the door. "Dean and I were having a discussion that would be easier if you were not included in the room at the same time. No offense." Sam wore a confused look, but continued into the room.

"No, Cas, I think I will stick around for a few minutes." Looking from Dean to Cas and then back to Dean the younger Winchester awaited an answer. Cas shifted uncomfortably. "What's this all about?" Sam asked looking from Dean to Cas and back to Dean. Cas took a seat on the bed across from the brothers. Dean followed him down and Sam sat next to Dean. "Is someone going to tell me what the hell is going on or am I going to be six steps behind, left out of the loop again?" Sam asked. Dean looked over to Cas and decided it was best to let Sam in on what he knew.

"Well, Sam, it would seem that you were right about Cas lying to us. He won't tell me what the hell is up, but there's a reason. So he's told me." Dean explained. Cas looked down at the floor and sulked. "That being said, Cas isn't the only one keeping secrets in this room. I'm wondering where the hell you keep running off to. Back at the club, the morgue, and just now. Something you wanna tell me?" Dean asked directing his anger now at Sam. Sam looked hurt. "I need to know what's going on here!" Dean shouted throwing his hands up in the air and starting to pace the room again.

Sam looked over to Cas who was silently looking at the floor. Neither man said anything and Dean, tired and waiting, tried to sort through the information Garth had left. He decided that it was best to move on. "Is this what Garth left?" Sam asked noticing the look on his brother's face. Dean was thankful he was able to focus on something else. "I don't recognize the name. Ryan Brendan. Who is this?" Sam was the one to question the angel. Cas stood up and walked to the door. "Hey, where are you heading off to?" Sam asked. Cas said nothing and walked out of the door. Dean threw his arms up in frustration again.

"Ryan Brendan is the name of a contact that Garth thought might know what the hell we're dealing with. But after this shit with Cas I don't know. I'm starting to think, though, that Garth is the only one who isn't lying to me about something." Dean answered Sam's question and checked outside the door. Cas had vanished once again without saying much of anything. "Great." Dean said to himself as he slide back in the motel room. "This is the deal, Sam. We sleep on this shit, see the widow tomorrow morning, and then call this Brendan guy and see what he can tell us. Maybe he is in the know."

Sam moved the file that Garth had left on the bed and laid down. Dean had never known Sam to wear the same clothes to bed, but he had also been away for almost a year and things had obviously changed between them. As he watched Sam drift he reached for his cell and walked outside. Looking down at the cell he scrolled through the numbers on his contact list until he reached "Benny." Taking a look around and thinking to himself for a moment he considered not making the call, but before he knew it he had hit the button and the line was ringing.


	9. An Inconvenient Lie

_**Chapter Nine:  
**__**An Inconvenient Lie**_

Sam knew there was something strange about Dean from the moment he climbed out of bed that morning. Dean was always up before him, but it was never too much earlier. This morning Dean was up early enough to have showered, dressed, and was about to finish eating. "Sam," he beamed brighter than usual, "I didn't know what you wanted, but there's a McDonald's about five minutes down the road - to die for - if you want to take the Impala and snag some food." Sam was still groggy from the evening before, but Dean was never this bright eyed. Something was very off about him. "Oh, and I have called and set up a meeting with that Brendan dude. So, might want to clean up and get a move on before it's too late." Sam watched as Dean shuffled across the room.

"Yeah," Sam said slightly confused but trying to cover it, "I won't be long." he let his voice fade as Dean left the room. Sam bolted out of bed and went to check and see if Dean had left his cell about or some clue as to what he was on. Sam found nothing. Thinking back to the evening before, he had heard Dean make a call about an hour after their fight and the dispute with Cas, but he was unable to make out who the call was to. He figured it was Garth or the contact, but he couldn't have been too sure. Still, there was something off about the whole situation. "Dean," Sam shouted loudly, "where's the damn shampoo?" He listened. Dean didn't answer. He must have been outside and out of earshot. This allowed him a few minutes of time.

Returning to his bed he removed his cell from the dresser between the beds and went to the bathroom. Listening to make sure Dean wasn't heading back in, he locked the door, switched on the shower, and scrolled through his contacts. When he found the one he was looking for he hit dial and waited. There was a long lull as the other end rang, rang, and rang. "Hello?" a faint voice asked from the other end. Sam answered the line and let the voice know who he was. "Dean Winchester?" the voice asked Sam casually. Sam confirmed the name and listened as the line went dead. Then, Sam took a shower and dressed himself for the day.

Sam met Dean outside the motel as he was about to climb in the Impala. There was a look of actual concern on Dean's face and Sam felt himself become worried. "What's wrong?" Sam asked Dean as he climbed in the Impala and waited for Dean to turn it over. Dean said nothing, just climbed in and switched over the car, and smirked. It was as if he knew something that Sam didn't or there was something different about him. "Dean, look, I'm sorry for lying to you about where I have been, but I don't feel like talking about it right now and this whole deal with Cas...I don't even know where to start on that." Sam mused aloud. Dean continued to focus on the task at hand.

"Sam, none of that matters right now. I have a lead." Dean finally said breaking his intensifying silence. Sam let out a sigh of relief and looked over to his elder brother who was holding up a slip of paper. "Read it. I'm sure you will find it increasingly interesting." Dean said pulling out of the parking lot of the motel. Sam read the slip of paper and tried to make sense of what it said. All he could read was a name, 'Trent Riley.' Sam looked over to Dean who was still focused on the road. "So, what do you think? Good? Bad? I know it isn't much, but it's a lead. And a lead is a lead." Dean replied.

Sam thought carefully before answering Dean. "Dean, it's a name. There's nothing else. Is this a name we should know?" Sam asked trying to keep his cool. Dean scoffed at him and motioned for him to read the file that Garth had brought along with him. "It says Trent Riley was an employee of the Gold and Silver Club..." Sam read, but he couldn't make sense of what this had to do with the name on the note. And then it dawned on him what Dean was saying. "He's dead? The bouncer?" Sam asked, slightly shocked by the revelation in front of him. "And if I'm understanding this right, he was ex-sanguinated - drained of blood. Vampire attack." Dean nodded.

"This case is making less and less sense by the day, Sam." Dean replied looking over at Sam. "I don't know what we're dealing with, but it's either some type of mimic or shifter because now we have three deaths. One that looks very much like a Leviathan, one that looks like a heart-attack, and one that is very, very clearly a vampire attack." Sam tried to process everything that was being said, but there was nothing that was making sense to him. "Brendan seems to have a handle on what we're looking at, though. We should be almost to where he wanted to meet." Dean checked the area and saw the huge star over the city. "There's where we're heading." Sam looked up and saw the star over the city and let out a long sigh.

"I still don't understand what this has to do with the case at hand, Dean. One minute you're ready to beat the shit out of me and Cas and now you're all bouncy. What's the deal?" Sam asked point blank. Dean mulled over the question and blew it off. "Dean, I know there's something wrong and you don't have to talk to me about it, but I know it's there." Sam reminded him as they turned off the highway and drove up the hill to the star. Dean occasionally looked over to Sam, but said nothing. Sam figured there was nothing to say, but if there was, it would crawl under Dean's skin until it was too much and he would have to talk to him. "There's the star." Sam said half-hearted as he looked over and saw the massive steel star just ahead.

Dean rolled the Impala to a stop and the Winchesters climbed out of the car. This was the first time Sam and Dean had really taken a moment since they had arrived in Roanoke to see what the city actually looked like and in that brief moment it was beautiful. The moment was shattered, however, as Dean's cell cut through the air. "Hey," he said into the line, "no, no. I'm not available right now. I can meet you later." Sam listened, almost sure of who was on the other end of the line, but said nothing. "Thank you. I'll check it out." Dean said clicking off. "Another lead." he offered. Sam nodded and didn't show how much his curious nature was eating away at him.

Sam was about to say something when another vehicle rolled up near them and shut down. Sam and Dean watched as the occupant, a man in his mid thirties, shoulder length brunette hair, and a three day scruff climbed out. Sam and Dean exchanged concerned glances and waited for the man to introduce himself. "Hello, I am...who am I...oh, right...I am Ryan Brendan." the man said thrusting his hand out. Sam took it first, cautiously, and Dean followed soon behind. "You guys must be the Remmingtons. Or, rather, the Winchesters! Yes, that's who Garth said you would be. Winchesters. Like the weapon. Hey, do you guys shoot Winchesters? Or know them? 'Cause the Model 70 is, like, my very favorite weapon ever created. Ever. Hats off."

"Right, so, Garth says you might know something about this?" Sam said handing him the image of the woman from the club. Ryan took the photograph and looked it over. Sam looked back to Dean as their company thought about the woman. "Anything you know could be helpful." Sam said trying to usher the information out of the man. To their shock Ryan licked the image and handed it back to Sam. "Um, you can keep it." Sam replied as politely as he could. Dean shook his head and sat on the hood of the Impala swallowing back his amusement. Sam could feel his skin crawling.

"She's delicious, that's for damn sure, man." Ryan replied sniffing loudly. Sam backed up a foot or so and waited for Ryan to offer something of use. "She's not human. That's obvious, and you knew that, so I'm not saying anything of use now. So, what I do know is, she is delicious. Like cherries. You know how there's that song...she's my cherry pie...so sweet she makes a grown man cry? Yeah, that's her, man. But, um, right. You don't care about my sexual hang ups. She's not a vampire, a shifter, or a hooker. What is...what she is...what is she? Oh, right! She's what you might call a mimic." Ryan offered. Sam thought about it for a moment and looked to Dean who was busy playing with his fingernails. "That's what she is. Mimic! Like that fucking movie. About the big ass bugs in the sewers." Ryan nodded and looked over at Sam with an intensity that frightened him.

Dean slid off the hood of the Impala and joined the two men. "Mimic, you called her a mimic? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Dean asked. Sam was still trying to figure out what that was, but he had a few ideas and with this he could start checking around and making calls. "Are you saying she's some massive cockroach, created by scientists to kill another type, that's learned how to be human? This doesn't explain much to me." Dean was becoming tired of Ryan's act and Sam could sense that he was about to become upset.

"Back off!" Ryan shouted suddenly as Dean threw his arms up in defense. "I know what you're trying to do and you will not suck my fucking brain out of a straw, man. No sir! I won't let you! Tell him to back off." Ryan said looking at Sam. Sam looked to Dean who was returning back to the Impala. "There. You stay right there, you bastard. Sam, I don't like him. No sir. I don't like him at all! He's creepy. Hold me." he said falling into Sam's arms. Sam retracted and set Ryan back up. "Sam..." he whined. Sam took a step back, but it was no use. Ryan was in his face before long.

Dean couldn't help but laugh to himself as he muttered under his breath. Sam shot a disapproving look his way and returned his attention back to Ryan. "Ryan, I need you to back up a little and let me have some breathing room, okay?" Sam rested his hands on Ryan and gently moved him back. "Now, tell me more about this mimic."

Ryan started to chew on his sleeve and walked around in circles. "Mimic. You know, like it can look like anything, kill like anything, it eats my dog. But see, it isn't any of these things. It kills like a Levi or a vampire or a wraith, but in reality, it's none of these. It's a re-run. Nothing more. Nothing more. Nothing like that. There's no way to kill it, either, because it's all of these things and none of them. Like french toast and bacon. You cannot kill...french toast, can you Sam?" he asked imploring Sam. Sam considered it for a moment. "Silver, maybe. Like a werecat. Or a werewoman. Evil things, those." Ryan muttered returning his attention to Sam.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious. You have been of wonderful help, but Sam and I need to be off now." Dean said finally having enough. Sam would have liked to extracted more information about this mimic, but he knew it wouldn't help much. Ryan was clearly not playing with a full deck of cards. Ryan shuffled back to his car as Sam turned to walk back to the Impala. Out of nowhere, Sam felt a swift smack on his ass and spun around. Dean was having too much trouble keeping a straight face, but Sam's was flush with red. "Sam, you okay?" he asked through the fits of laughter.

Ryan had smacked Sam's ass firm and swift. He could feel the welt on his ass burning as the crazed man scuttled back his car in shock. Sam wanted, in that moment, to choke the life out of the bastard and leave him there to die. "Yeah, Dean. Just fine." he shouted as he walked over to the car that Ryan had climbed in. "You ever touch me again, you will be eating your last meal through a straw, do I make myself clear?" Sam was seething as Ryan turned over the car and waved to him. Sam watched as he inched each finger, delicately, almost effeminately.

Sam returned to the Impala, defeated. Dean looked over at him and shot him a sly grin. "Sammy's got a boyfriend..." he teased. Sam punched his brother so hard his fist hurt. "What? I saw the way he smacked that ass. You think he owned that ass. And you took it." Dean laughed as he spoke. Sam could feel himself turning red with each new accusation and he knew it would be something he would never have the chance to live down. "So, when's the wedding?" Dean asked as they rolled down the mountain and back into the valley. Sam wanted to focus on the task at hand, but he knew Dean would never let him forget the encounter.

"Dean, I know you're going to have fun with this and I expect nothing less, but can we move on for now? Focus on the case at hand? There's a new lead to follow, a better one than yours I might add, and now we know what we might be dealing with. Mimics. Not that I know what that fucking means, but we have a lead. Better than nothing." Sam said looking straight ahead.

Dean nodded and checked the road head. "So, where to next? Hunting Hills to talk to Conrad's wife or back to the morgue to talk to Dr. Baker about Riley?" Dean asked. Sam thought about it for a moment, mulling over the options. He wanted to see what the doctor had found out about the woman's body, having left before the results from that were in, but he also wasn't looking forward to returning having lied about being in the CIA. "Well, what is it?" Dean asked as they entered the highway. Sam still had no idea what he wanted to follow up on.

"I don't know, Dean. How about we talk to the widow first? She's not about to be an information well, but it will offer us an idea of who Conrad was and the reason he was...eaten. Attacked. I don't know what the hell that was." Sam replied. Dean nodded and followed the exits to reach Hunting Hills. Sam knew it was his best shot and allowed him time to come up with something to say to the doctor and her staff that would make sense of the CIA being involved with this many deaths this fast in this small of a town in rural Virginia. They might be bumpkins, but they were not stupid.


	10. The Significance of Others

_**Chapter Ten:  
**__**The Significance of Others**_

"So, if I'm understanding you right, what you're saying, Agent McQueen, is that Robert was mauled to death? In Roanoke city? By...what?" Courtney Conrad asked, slightly confused. Dean took a sip of the warm tea she had brought out to him and Sam a few minutes earlier. "A bear?" Dean searched the woman's face as she tried to make sense of her husband's death. "That doesn't make any sense. I'm sorry, Agent McQueen, but there's no bear in the city limits of Roanoke." she said firmly. Dean looked over to Sam who was eating one of the homemade cookies.

Dean knew it was a flat out lie, and a bad one, but it was one that he would have to figure out a method of selling if he was to extract information out of this woman. "Well, his body was found outside the Gold and Silver Gentleman's Club," he said shifting his weight in the couch, "but we believe that he was out camping when he was attacked by a bear. We believe that he was able to escape from the campsite and found himself at the club's door when he died and bled out. Had the dancer not been there to call the ambulance...well, he wouldn't have lasted much longer than he had." Dean tried to explain. He could tell that the Conrad woman wasn't buying what he was trying to sell.

"We know it doesn't make a lot of sense," Sam interjected, "but you have to understand that we're working from speculation alone." Sam rested his hand on the table for the woman to take, but she only looked away. "I know it won't be easy, but can you think of a reason Robert might have been in the woods? Or, dare I ask, near the Gentleman's Club?" Dean took another sip from the tea and directed his attention to the woman Sam was trying to comfort and ease the information out of. Still, Dean had his doubts about what the woman would reveal.

The widow looked out the window and back to Sam before speaking. "We...have been having trouble in our marriage." she replied looking down at her hands. Dean could feel a slight pang of pain tracing back to his short lived life with Lisa and Ben. "And, while it makes no sense on how he came to be...mauled...I'm pretty sure he was at that whore house with his friend Eric. Eric Carlyle. That son of a bitch has been fueling Robert's distance from me for months now." Dean could hear the edge in her tone and knew that Sam was striking a nerve.

"If this is too difficult to talk about, we understand." Dean comforted. Sam looked over at him and Dean tilted his head. "I had a family once, but, uh, the job came between us. So, I can understand some of what you're dealing with, Mrs. Conrad." Dean continued to comfort the woman. He watched as Sam drew a confused look across his face, but said nothing. Dean returned his attention back to the widow. "But, we could really use your help in this." The widow sighed visibly and took her first sip from the tea she had brought out for the brothers.

"No, no." the widow defended her emotions, but Dean could tell it was becoming increasingly difficult to speak about. "I'm fine. I should talk about this before I let it bottle up." There was a long silence between the three as Dean nervously drank his tea and Sam chewed on the cookies. There was something soothing about the woman's tea, Dean had to confess, and the woman smiled. "Robert used to say it made him feel better." she replied looking down at her hands again. Dean noticed she seemed to be studying them, almost as if they were alien to her.

"That will be all for now, Mrs. Conrad." Sam said finishing his cookie and standing up. Dean shot him a confused look. "I believe we have all we need and there's no sense in making matters worse for you." he said shaking her hand. Dean, still confused, stood and shook. "If there's anything you can think of that might make sense of what Robert was doing...at that campsite...or club...call us." Sam said offering the widow a business card. Dean watched as she studied the card and smiled. Sam, it would seem, was 'working it' and Dean had missed it.

As Sam finished with the formalities, Dean snatched himself a few cookies for the road. "Do you mind?" he asked the widow. A smile played at the edges of her lips as Dean took about six cookies. "These are wonderful, and it's a long drive, and..." The widow smiled and offered Dean a plastic bag and a few more cookies to take along with him. "Oh, you're too kind, Mrs. Conrad. Thank you!" Sam was on his way out of the house as Dean took the cookies and left with him. Once outside, he saw that Sam was musing over the information neither one of them had received.

"What was that back there, Dean? 'Such wonderful cookies'." Sam mocked Dean as they walked down the long driveway to back to the Impala. "You would think that you had never done this before." Sam was becoming annoyed and Dean said nothing. Considering his brother's tone for a moment he shot his arm out with a cookie. "No," Sam said smacking his elder brother's hand away, "I don't want a fucking cookie. What I want is to know what that was back there."

"What was what?" Dean asked chewing his cookie, "Because it kind of seemed like you were working it on that widow back there. That's what it looked like to me. God, these are wonderful cookies. You sure you don't want one?" Dean asked again offering Sam a cookie. Sam drew an annoyed look on his face and Dean reigned himself back in. "Okay," he said exasperatedly, "I know we should be looking for more information, but that woman's lost her husband and she has wonderful cookies. I have been out of the deal for a year. I'm sorry if I'm not David Caruso. Not that you're much better." Dean said climbing back in the Impala. Sam climbed in and looked over to his brother, clearly annoyed.

"I don't know what you're talking about, but I was able to suss out some information that you might have missed while you were busy...devouring...the woman's cookies." Sam said settling into his seat as Dean turned the Impala over. "Her husband has been cheating around." Dean narrowed his eyes and looked over to Sam. "She mentioned that the two of them were having trouble in their relationship. Chances are, one of them, if not both, are cheating." Sam said matter-of-factly.

Dean tried to hide his satisfaction in what Sam was saying, but knew Sam would see through him. "That's the brother I knew and loved, back before all of this Purgatory, Apocalypse, and all of that." he boasted. Sam looked down and hid a smile playing at the end of his mouth. "So, where does this leave us? Head back to the morgue? Try and smooth things over there? Or club - again." Dean mused aloud. Sam let out a long sigh and blew the hair out of his eyes. "What?"

"I think it would be best if we split up on this one, Dean. You can slip in and out of the morgue a lot easier than I can, as they don't think you're working for the CIA - which, honestly, might work to our benefit - and I can focus enough to talk to those at the club." Sam said. Dean chewed on what his brother's offer was. "It's the best chance we have." Sam reasoned. Dean hated when he knew that Sam was right and the idea of splitting up was one of the best he had heard all day. "Take me to the club and you can sit in at the morgue. Simple, easy, no trouble."

Dean considered what his brother was saying for a moment longer before speaking. "You're right, Sam. That would be our best chance. I'll talk to the doctor over at the county morgue and you can handle that bastard Michaels. Heaven knows he doesn't much care for me." Dean offered trying to anon his brother's request. "I'll call when I'm on the way back. If I'm not back by the time you're done talking to them hail a cab. I'll see you back at the motel. Just, uh, call? Before you leave." Dean said as he continued on the way to the club.

As the Winchesters arrived at the club Dean knew he was about to play with fire. He knew that Sam was up to something, but what that something might have been was an unknown. It was like dealing with Cas. Still, he wasn't as innocent as he would have liked the others to think. He had been in contact with Benny, who he was having run down a few leads, in the absence of having Bobby around. Dean knew damn well he could trust Benny to find what he was looking for. If it could be found. Sam broke through Dean's thoughts when he motioned for Dean to pull into the parking lot before he drove past it like he had been doing this whole case. "Remember, you're not in the CIA, Dean." Sam said as he climbed out of the Impala.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean said dismissing Sam, "want some cookies for the stay?" Dean asked offering Sam another cookie. Sam scoffed and Dean shrugged to himself. His loss, because that meant that it was all the more for Dean. "I'll be back as soon as I can. If not, you know what to do." Dean said as Sam walked to the club's front door. Dean watched as he stopped and talked to the other bouncer, the one from the other day. Sam could work his magic there and he could work his magic over at the morgue. Fair enough, right?

As he left the club Dean ran through everything that had happened on the case thus far. He had tried to have a night off with Sam, but that was ruined when Cas showed up with a dead body. Cas had lied to him about raising the dead woman, who he still couldn't place but he knew her from somewhere, and then continued to lie to him about it being a case involving Leviathans. Sam was acting strange and disappearing when it benefit him. Something was up, but no one would tell him what it was. He was also aware that there was another death, the reason Sam was at the club, the bouncer Trent Riley. And then there was the fact that he was hunting down what might or might not be, based on what Garth's wonderful contact had provided, a mimic. Dean found himself knee deep in the shit and no shovel to toss it out of his way. Still, he would have to press on.

Coasting along he decided it was about time for some music to soothe the mind. Reaching over to the dial on the Impala to switch on the music he felt something cold rush through the car. He didn't know what was going on, but he knew he was no longer alone in the car. Glancing over he was shocked to see Cas sitting next to him and swerved the Impala, out of reaction more than desire, heading into on-coming traffic. Panicked, Dean slalomed between the cars speeding at him, horns honking, as Cas reached across the vehicle. "Cas, I would love to talk, but right now isn't the best...time..." Dean shouted narrowly missing another car head-on. Cas reached over and rested his hand on Dean's shoulder. "What the fuck?!" he shouted as he heard the faint screech of tires and a loud echo shot through his head. And then, everything suddenly went black.


	11. All the Best Dancers Have Daddy Issues

_**Chapter Eleven:  
**__**All the Best Dancers Have Daddy Issues**_

Sam had not been looking forward to his return to the Gold and Silver Gentleman's Club, but it was a lot better than having to weave another lie at the Roanoke County Morgue about who he was, how he was with the CIA, and dealing with that whole mess. Dean would have an easier time making them believe he was with the FBI, considering he had been able to slip out unnoticed, leaving Sam to have to lie his way out. This was Sam's way of paying him back for that, but it didn't make it any easier having to deal with the owner of the club whom Sam felt didn't much like him. Taking a long breath and bracing himself for what was about to come, Sam lurched forward and listened as Dean drove off in the Impala to the morgue.

In the distance Sam could make out the silhouette of the bouncer they had encountered a few days earlier. Swallowing his distaste for the club and its residence he approached the man with a hand out. "You look familiar." the man said as Sam drew closer. Taking his hand with a firm grip Sam knew that he wouldn't have much trouble in dealing with this man. "You're that FBI man." His tone was inflectional and Sam knew he was trying to think of the name he had given him. "But wasn't there a second one of you the other time?"

Sam thought about it for a moment before speaking. "Yes, there was two of us, but my partner is off handling another aspect of the case." Sam lied. It wasn't so much of a lie as it was a half truth, though. The bouncer nodded and offered Sam a smoke. "Oh, no. I don't smoke," Sam said waving him off, "but I am interested in speaking to your boss again. It's really important." Sam said, placing an emphasis on the importance of the case. "Do you mind?"

The bouncer considered, reached into his box of cigarettes, and removed one. "Hey, you're with the FBI. Who am I to stand in the way of something important?" he asked with a shrug. Sam watched as he flicked his lighter a few times and tried to light the smoke. "Do you mind?" Sam shook his head and watched as the bouncer lit his smoke and took a long drag. "The boss is inside, but tell me straight, is this about Trent? 'Cause I haven't heard from him and there's a rumor milling around that he was the latest victim of this serial killer." Sam fought back the desire to smile. This man was offering him everything he wanted and more. Sam could use this serial killer angle.

"Yes," Sam said resting his hand on the bouncer's shoulder, "I'm afraid that it is. I'll do my best to reach the bottom of this. Your friend will not have died in vain." Sam lied a second time. This time it was an actual lie, though. He could have cared less about this man's friend and was focused on trying to solve this case and put whatever the hell this thing was to rest. "Where's your boss now?" Sam asked remembering that he had no idea where Michaels was in the club. The bouncer thought about it for a moment while a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Boss?" Sam drew the man back to reality and tried to move them into the club.

"Right, right." The bouncer spoke slowly. Sam took a moment to clear his head and asked the man what his name was. "Oh, me? I'm Daniel. Daniel Collins. Thank you for asking." Daniel beamed for a moment. Sam knew it would matter to him later on if he knew the name of this bouncer that way he could keep a relationship with him active. It had helped in other cases and was something that he really wished Dean would learn to do. "The boss is up in his office right now, but let me call ahead for you." Sam thanked him and waited.

Sam waited while Daniel left to talk to Elliott Michaels. Sam knew the son of a bitch didn't like him much and it wouldn't be an easy conversation, but he reflected that it would be a lot easier than what Dean was dealing with. Sam was also free from having to stand over a dead body, smelling the putrid stench of death, and listen to Dean ramble like an idiot in front of Dr. Baker. That Sam knew would be like watching a train wreck, only more horrific. Distracting himself from his thoughts, Sam mussed with his tie and watched as Daniel went up the stairs to where his boss' office was located. He also noticed that the music was a bit softer now and less patrons. Over the speakers he could hear the music, but making out the lyrics was a bit harder.

"Welcome back, Agent Romero." Elliott Michaels said aloud holding out his hand cracking Sam's little world wide open. "I wasn't expecting to see you back so...soon." Sam listened as he searched for the right words. "What can we do for you this time?" he said. Sam could almost taste the distrust and dislike in his tone as he shook his hand. Michaels smiled. "I think it would be best if we spoke about things in my office, can we?" Sam nodded and figured that might be best.

"Yes, if you don't mind." Sam replied. Michaels led Sam across the floor to the stairs. "What can you tell me about this newest victim, um, one of your bouncers. Trent Riley. What can you tell me about Mr. Trent Riley?" Sam tried to make it sound like he hadn't memorized the details of the previous deaths. "Better question," he asked as they climbed the stairs, "what can you tell me about how he died?" Sam was unsure what to expect now. He had no idea how Riley had died, but that he was dead. Daniel the Bouncer hadn't been forthcoming with too much details involving the death of his friend.

Elliott Michaels stopped outside of his door and looked Sam over. "You want to know how he died?" The exasperation in his tone was clear. "He died doing what he loved. That's how he died." the small man offered as he returned to opening the door to his office. Sam was liking the man less and less, but swallowed his own hatred for this tiny man and entered the office. "Make yourself at home." Sam watched as he walked over to his desk and took a seat.

Sam took a seat across from the club owner and took in his office. From the moment he had walked in he knew that this man came from money. He could feel it in the way the room was set up. From the solid chestnut desk in the center of the room, to the fancy paintings dotting the walls, and the small lounge area off to his left. Sam hated the man more in that moment, reminded of the chance he had lost almost a decade back when he took up hunting again. He could have been a lawyer with a lovely office like this himself, but instead he had taken the life of a hunter. Thankless and living in a low rent motel or hotel each night. No warm beds and no wife to welcome him home each night.

Sam ran his hands along the fine hairs of the velvet seat and felt it envelop him. "I know you don't like me too much, but I need you to set that aside so we can solve this murder and prevent another one. I'm sure you would like to make sure this...business of yours...continues to hum along." Sam tried to make a connection with the owner, but he could tell he was still skating on thin ice. "Tell me about how Mr. Riley died."

"You're right, I don't like you. But...in the interest of making sure that this club isn't shut down I might be able to co-operate." Michaels shifted in his seat. "As you might have noticed Mr. Riley was a bouncer for this club. He had been for quite a long time. He was also one of the best that we had on staff. In fact, him and Daniel, the gentleman who brought you up, are my best two. Were. Were my best two." Michaels said correcting himself. Sam nodded and waited for him to continue. "He was also very close with one of our dancers, Rosie McNally. You know that expression...'all the best cowboys have daddy issues'?" Michaels asked. Sam had to stop himself from fidgeting and nodded. "Well, Rosie was a perfect example of that. Except in her case, it would be 'all the best dancers have daddy issues.' Trent helped her with that."

Sam took down a few notes and smiled weakly. "So, what you're saying is Trent - we'll call him that because it's a bit easier - Trent was close with Rosie. Do you know if the two of them were involved?" Sam asked. His mind bounced back to the video footage he had seen only days earlier of Rosie morphing from the pretty young dancer to a Leviathan looking face of razor sharp teeth. Swallowing back that image he waited for his host to answer the question.

Michaels mulled it over and let out a laugh. "Involved? No, sir. I doubt very much that Trent was seeing Rosie beyond their little bother-sister relationship. You see, unless Trent had breasts and a vagina I don't think Rosie would have been too much interested in him." Sam offered Michaels a confused look. "I'm saying that she was a lesbian. Don't you ever venture out of the office?" the man asked. Sam choked back his anger and nodded.

"No, I'm not used to it being said like that. That's all." Sam said in his defense. This case was becoming more interesting with each new layer. "So, Rosie wasn't involved with Trent. Was she the one who found him? Or was it another dancer?" Sam asked trying to assemble a chain of events. He knew damn well that Rosie was the one who had been there, and killed him, but he wasn't ready to break that to this man. He wanted to keep some of his cards close to his vest still yet.

"Yes..." Michaels replied slowly, squinting at Sam now. "How did you know that? Never mind. Yes, she was the one who found him. He was...drained of his blood. It makes no sense to me." Sam shifted his weight as he considered the new murder. Now he felt like he was hunting a vampire. Maybe the crazy son of a bitch that had smacked his ass was right about this being some type of a mimic. "It was almost as if some vampire had sucked the life right out of him." Michaels said hazing out a little bit, almost as if he was unsure of what he was saying.

Sam almost choked as he wrote down a few more notes. In his breast pocket he felt his cell vibrate, but he directed his attention back to the club owner. "Well, while that is a very strange way to die, I doubt very much it was a vampire attack." Sam lied. "But, I can assure you that we will find out what happened to him. Now, before I leave, I would like to speak to you about Rosie for a moment." Sam started. Michaels stood up fast and locked eyes with Sam.

"What are you trying to imply about Rosie?" he asked, his tone direct and firm, "Because if it's anything short of her being a victim of having found her best-friend dead and all of his blood sucked out of him I will end this fucking conversation and cease to co-operate with your investigation." Sam shifted his weight and knew he was now out on the limb. If he said something wrong now he would screw up his chances of making it beyond this moment.

"Sir, I'm not saying anything. I'm only saying that she was seen in the crime scene of the first death, Robert Conrad, and now she's the one who found Trent Riley. I'm no expert, but it would seem like there's a pattern emerging." Sam knew he was inching closer to the close of this conversation. "Now, as I mentioned, I'm not saying she's the killer but we have to accept that she might be a person of interest in this case." Sam watched as Michaels became red and started breathing in a shortened breath. Sam felt the intensity in the room becoming tripwire tense.

"Leave." Elliott Michaels said loudly as he directed Sam to the door. "And if you return to my fucking club I will have you clubbed to death! Out!" Sam retracted as the man threatened him. Standing up he started walking to the door and stopped. "I don't care what you have to say. You do not come in this office, in this club, and accuse my girls of being serial killers or even involved in such things. You don't know them like I do. Now get your fucking ass out before I have you removed. This conversation is over!" Sam watched as the owner sat back down and looked over his computer.

As he walked out Sam knew that he had walked a fine line, but he also knew he had the information he needed to continue. Once he was outside he took in a lung full of fresh air and looked around. Dean was nowhere to be found. While this wasn't unusual, he figured he would wait a few minutes before calling a cab and heading back to the motel. Then he remember the call earlier. Checking his cell he saw that it was Garth. Letting out a sigh he clicked it off and waited for Dean.


	12. All Along the Watchtower

_**Chapter Twelve:  
**__**All Along the Watchtower**_

Elliott Michaels watched as the obnoxious pretty boy fed had walked out of his office. Thinking back he should have chosen his words with a bit more caution, but this asshole was trying to bad mouth one of his best dancers, Rosie. "Bastard has a lot of fucking nerve, that's for sure." he muttered under his breath as he spun around in his chair and rolled to a small cabinet behind the desk. Reaching inside he let his hand dance across several bottles before landing on the cognac. Wrapping his hand around the neck of the bottle he removed it and set it on the desk. Glancing around he saw that he had nothing to pour it in and slid open the drawer on the top left. "There." He spoke to himself as he let the warm liquid slip out of the bottle and fill about half the glass he had set on the desk. "Relief."

As he felt the cognac slide down his throat and the slow burn course through him he let out a long breath and directed his attention to what the fed had been saying about Rosie. While he didn't want to consider the chance that she might be involved with the murders, she was the one who had found all three of the bodies. Chance? It could have been. The first, this Robert Conrad, had been killed in one of the backrooms that she had favored using so it was logical that she would have found the body first. She would often lead a john back there and do her thing. The second, Danielle Wallace, the lesbian who was with another one of his dancers, was a fluke accident. Elliott thought about how she had located that body and wasn't shocked that she was the one, but it was odd that Rosie had walked in the stall having only missed the killer - if there was one in this case, considering it was declared that she had died of a heart attack. The last was the most disturbing.

From what Elliott was told, via second hand accounts and an interrogation with the Roanoke County police, Rosie had found Trent drained of his blood in her dressing room. This had struck Elliott as strange because she was the only one who had her own dressing room and the key. It was as if the killer was trying to make it look like she was doing it. Still, having listened to what Rosie had told him about the discovery he found it incredibly unlikely that she was even on the radar. She was clearly shaken and despite his offer for her to take the night off she had asked to stay on. "Ever the workaholic." he said to her as she shivered at the thought of using her own dressing room again. He vowed to make sure the room was cleaner than it had been when she was first offered it. Still, he couldn't deny that something about the whole situation didn't sit right with him. Something wasn't adding up.

Running his left hand through his brunette hair, Elliott stood up and staggered over to the door and shut it. He wished the fed had been at least kind enough to do that, but there was no sense in dwelling on it now. Besides, it also offered him a chance to shut off the lights and rest his eyes a bit. He could feel a tension building behind his eyes and the light would soon become his enemy. As he staggered back to his chair he found it too difficult and crashed in the one the fed had been sitting in less than fifteen minutes earlier. "This is too fucking stressful." he said aloud to the room. He could hear a faint echo bounce through the room, but thought nothing of it.

It didn't take long for him to feel the first pang of stress creeping up on him; crawling like a cockroach under his skin, reminding him that there was still the matter of dealing with Rosie. He would have to speak to her, he knew that. There was no way around it. She was at each of the crime scenes and she had found all three bodies. But she wasn't affected by such things. That's what didn't sit well on Elliott's stomach. The Rosie he knew would have freaked out and taken a month off, if she ever came back, from work after the first death. Yet, for some reason, she was acting like it was nothing at all. It was "just another day at the office." Had he missed some subtle change in her demeanor? Could it be that she had something else, something worse, heading her off in her personal life that he was unaware of? He liked to think that she could come to him with anything, but was she?

As his mind scanned through the endless possibilities, he heard the echo again and sat up. "I can hear you." he declared, still fighting back the pangs of pain beating through him. After several seconds of no response he sat up further and rested his glass on the desk in front of him. "You better not be fucking with me, I swear to Christ I will kill you if you are!" Elliott shouted, becoming increasingly aware now that he wasn't as alone in the room as he had imagined he was. Sliding behind his desk he sat down and reached under the desk to where he had a Colt .45 ACP hidden. Drawing the hammer back, he listened for the echo to stir again. "Hello?" he called aloud, feeling his muscles tense now. Someone else was in the room with him; he knew it. There was no way he was alone.

Suddenly, as if to answer his demands, the stereo in his office kicked on. Elliott spun around looking in the direction of the sound, but found nothing. The sound of Jimi Hendrix echoed throughout the whole office, _'There must be some kind of way out of here', said the Joker to the Thief...'there's too much confusion, I can't get no relief'_. Waving the weapon around, Elliott tried to train it on something, anything that was moving in the room with him. His eyes strained as they darted back and forth, from each wall to the next, to the lounge area, the cabinet behind him, and finally the entrance. He found nothing. "Show yourself!" His voice was drown out by the musical musings of Hendrix. He could hardly hear himself, let alone someone else who was in the room with him.

_Business man, they drink my wine, plowman dig my earth...none were level on the line, nobody honored his word..._shot through the room like a bullet through the air. Elliott could feel his pulse quickening and his mind becoming sharper. The adrenaline was kicking in and his former military training taking over. The fear was at once replaced with cold calculation as he inched his way through the dark room, taking each new step with extreme caution. The music made it increasingly difficult to hear, but he tried to dull it out as he made his way to where it was coming from. Elliott sucked in enough air to fill his lungs, held it, and released it as he moved forward. He decided the stereo would be his first destination. Kill the music and allow himself a chance to hear the intruder.

Drawing closer to where he had installed the stereo several years earlier he could hear Hendrix musing, '_no reason to get excited,' the Thief kindly spoke, 'there are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke, but you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate, so let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late'_, the song echoing now through his brain as he remembered the reason he had left it in the stereo days earlier. It had spoken to him; these deaths acting as a catalyst for his demise. He knew he was the Thief in the allegory of the song and knew that this was no mistake that the song was playing now. The mysterious strange whom he was stalking now wanted him to know how he felt about him and had full intention of taking his life. It was in this moment that Elliott knew he was hunting the serial killer who had stalked his employees.

The revelation came as the music took over. Elliott knew this bridge better than most, having spent most of his adult life trying to learn to play it on his own failed attempts at being a guitarist. This was around the same time he felt he was better off devoting his life to making money off sex. Sex was something that always sold, and he knew he had found a niche market in the small rural community of Roanoke, Virginia. There was nothing quite like what he was offering. His was the first, and still the best, gentleman's club in the area. "I know who you are..." he shouted over the music, still unable to hear himself over Hendrix. He knew that if he still couldn't hear himself he wasn't even talking to himself, let alone the assassin before him.

As he reached the stereo he found himself unable to shut it off. He smacked each button, hoping to quell the cacophony that the music had become, but he was unable to. Hendrix continued to drill in his mind his impending fate as he sung the final lines of the song, _and all along the watchtower, Princes kept their view while all the women came and went, the barefoot servants, too...and outside in the cold distance a wild cat did grow, two riders were approaching, and the wind began to howl..._Elliott could feel his eyes becoming strained now beyond their own abilities and the pangs of pain were coursing through his entire body. Gripping his head he wanted the music to stop, each new riff louder and sharper than the last, and he felt a sense of dread as the song started over and the familiar line echoed a second time though his head.

"Sit." A male voice echoed through the room, over the music, as Elliott spun around to locate the voice. He found nothing, but the music died and suddenly the lights flashed on. Elliot could feel the brightness of the light cut through his cornea. "We have things to speak about, you and I." the male voice came from behind him. Before he knew what was happening he found himself thrust down in the same chair he had been in minutes earlier, trying to unwind, and two strong hands holding him down. As his eyes adjusted he looked to see who was holding him down and he saw two delicate, feminine hands, hands that he knew all too well. The hands, he knew in seconds, belonged to his Rosie. Her grip was stronger than he could have ever believed, but attention was drawn away from her as another figure, this one a male, sat down across from him and snapped his fingers to direct his eyes to him.

"Who the fuck are you?" Elliott demanded of the man sitting in front of him, in his chair, at his desk. The man was youthful, with mussed black hair, stern eyes, and a dusty cream colored overcoat. The man also seemed to be wearing a suit underneath, though the tie was clearly off center. Elliott tried to remember the man's face, feeling like he had met him before, but his mind drew a blank. Fighting back the fear that was once again eating away at him he tried to loosen Rosie's grip on him, but found it wasn't working. "What do you want from me?" he asked, his tone firm.

The man considered the request and played with the glass of cognac that was still on the desk. The man traced the edge of the glass and Elliott could hear a low hum. "What do we want from you..." the man mused aloud, "that's a really wonderful question. Hey, Ross, he would like to know what we want from him. Isn't that cute!?" The man leaned forward and pinched Elliott cheeks. He could feel the room temperature drop several degrees as the man leaned back in his seat. For a moment he wondered why the man was calling Rosie 'Ross', but his mind was directed back to the man in front of him. "We would like you. Well, more like your skin."

"My skin..." Elliott spoke slow as if he was unsure of what the man had said. "You want my skin. What the fuck does that even mean?" The man laughed aloud and Rosie/Ross laughed with him. Moments later he felt Rosie's hand dig further in his shoulder. "Ouch!" he shouted as he tried to spin around to face Rosie - Ross - but he was once again unable. This was when he knew that he was living on borrowed time. "At least tell me what this is about." he tried to plead with the two strangers in the room with him, but he knew it was no use.

The man stood up, directed his attention to the window that overlooked the club, and turned back to Rosie - Ross - and Elliott. "Ross, would you like the honor? I have to take care of Sam Winchester. He's about to become a serious problem and you know as well as I do, he's expecting his brother's secret lover Castiel. Well, once he realizes that his brother is...not coming for him and won't be meeting him back at the motel. I'm needed, to say the least." the man said and suddenly left within the blink of an eye. Elliott tried to shift his weight, but found he couldn't.

"I'm sorry it has to be this way, but this skin is falling apart and you know something? Being stuck as a woman is the worst." the woman before him said, the woman he had believed to be Rosie, but now had extreme doubts on that. "I'll be so thankful to be able to be a man again!" she said with an excited tone. Elliott was able to move now as the woman spun around to face him. But it was too late. He could see her face was falling off, revealing a strange, almost skeletal being underneath. He tried to scream, but it was caught in his throat as the creature reached into her coat pocket and removed the strangest looking blade that he had ever seen. "This won't hurt, but I must ask that you don't scream. Rosie here tried to scream, but...well, we all know how that ended." she - he - said as he drew the knife across Elliott's cheek drawing blood.

The worst of it was that Elliott was awake for most of the process, feeling each inch of his skin being peeled away, ripped up, and nerves searing with pain as the woman - man - creature - being tore it off of him. He was unable to move, unable to scream, and as he felt everything dull he saw that the being was consuming his flesh as if it was a hamburger. Fidgeting, Elliott felt the creature climb up his body, from between his legs, and the final thing he saw was it's claws sinking into his eyes. And then, everything went black and cold.


	13. Born on the Bayou

_**Chapter Thirteen:  
**__**Born on the Bayou**_

There was a slight bite to the air as Benny Lafitte climbed out of the truck and stepped outside in the cold night air. Turning up his collar he let out a long breath and watched as the cold air created a mist. "Thank you, friend. I owe you." Benny said as he looked back to the thirtysomething who had taken him from the backwoods of the Louisiana bayou to Roanoke, Virginia. "You keep yourself clean now, you hear?" he asked, tossing the man several hundred dollars and watching his eyes light up light Christmas lights.

The man smiled and looked over to Benny as he was leaving. "You keep out of trouble, too." Benny chuckled lightly and nodded. Having spent the last two and a half days riding with the man Benny had learned a lot about him. From his country roots in Kansas to his dreams of making it big and landing in the middle of the bayou, he had spilled his life story to Benny as if he had known him his whole life. He didn't mind much, though. It was something to distract him from the reason he was making the pilgrimage to Roanoke.

Benny waved to his friend as he left him outside of the Star City Motel, the same one where Sam and Dean had been staying, and braced himself. He knew that Sam would not like the fact that he was in town or that Dean had called him, but it was something he would have to deal with. They were both men and he was sure the two of them could work something out. Come to an understanding. Put the fact that Sam had another hunter tracking him which eventually lead to Benny taking that hunter's life behind them. Still, he couldn't deny the nasty after-taste that Sam had left in his mouth. A man like him was dangerous, unstable, and untrustworthy.

Taking in the fresh air he walked to the main office of the motel and listened as the bell over the door echoed through the room. Benny came to a halt for a brief moment and let the noise bounce through him, amusing himself with the simple things in life that he had missed since his stay in Purgatory, and continued on. Behind the counter was a homely young blond woman, who from the looks of her wasn't much older than twenty six, who wore a wide open smile that made him want to smile right back at her. "Can I help you?" she asked, her southern drawl showing through. Benny chuckled to himself and he set down his duffle bag on the floor next to where he was standing.

Mulling over the woman's response, Benny leaned in to see the name on her name tag - Jessica - and brought himself back before she had even noticed he moved. "Well, I sure do hope you can, miss." he said as politely as he could, allowing his own southern drawl to shine through. "I am looking for a couple of handsome young men, real charming, in their thirties. Have you seen 'em?" Jessica let a small giggle escape as she typed a few names in the computer. "One's name is Sam and the other is Dean." he offered as she checked.

"Well, I don't know if these are the fellows you're looking for, but I do have a Sam Romero and a Dean McQueen staying in room..." she let her voice trail as she typed away at the keys, "room ten. I can remember them both being very delicious." Benny fought back the urge to laugh and shot Jessica a southern smile that would have melted even the hardest of women. "I can ring them and let them know you're coming." Benny rested his hand on hers as she reached over to lift the phone from its cradle. "If you want..." Shaking his head, he rested the phone back.

"There's no need for that, ma'am." Benny replied with a curt bow as he picked up his duffle bag. "All I wanted to know was which room the boys were in." Jessica continued to smile as Benny walked to the door. Pushing it open he heard the bell ring again and stopped. Jessica called out asking if he needed something else. "No, just enjoying your bell is all." Looking back he saw that she was shaking her head. She reminded him of his great-granddaughter, but he forced that out of his mind as he walked back out into the cool Virginia night's air. "Crisp." He looked around at the room numbers and tried to locate the tenth room.

As he scanned the motel for the right room number he noticed that Dean's '66 Impala was nowhere to be seen. This meant that Dean was still out working this case. This also meant that there was a chance that he would be free from having to deal with Sam as well. Mulling over his options, he had a sudden thought. Moments later he found himself back in Jessica's company. "Why hello there, again." she said with a chipper tone that almost frightened Benny this time. "Couldn't find your boys?" Benny thought for a moment and shook his head. Confused, Jessica bit her lower lip. "What can I do for you, then?" She was still smiling, but he could see there was an annoyance playing at the edge of it.

Leaning in and resting his arms on the counter, Benny allowed himself to flash this young woman his best smile. "I was doing some reckoning and I thought, you know something, it might be best if I took up a room instead of drifting about and trying to wait for the boys to return. You see, I have business here in town, and it would be best if I had somewhere to lay my head. You understand, right? So, I figure what I'm asking, really, is for a room of my own. That wouldn't be too much trouble now would it, Jessica? I would hate to burden you." Jessica giggled and started to type away at the keys.

"There's no trouble at all, Mister..." Jessica said, her voice trailing as she tried to recall his name. Benny reached in his back pocket and remove an identification card. "Mr. Lafitte. Thank you. This wont' take too long." Jessica typed the information in the computer and a moment later handed him a key to one of the rooms. "Yours will be room thirteen. Just a few down from the guys you was looking for. I hope that's okay." A smile drew tighter against her lips and Benny could feel his hunger kicking in. Taking the key he left, once again amused by the bell over the door.

Once again he checked the parking lot to see if Dean's Impala was out there and once again he was met with disappointment. This case must have been more difficult than he thought because it wasn't like Dean to call and not check back in. Granted, their last encounter had been one that he had hoped to avoid. Still, he knew Dean was a man worth his salt when he let him walk. He lied to his brother, his own blood, about what he had done and allowed Benny to walk - again - and that was more than enough for him. Ever since, Dean had called almost weekly to check in and see what he was doing, how he was, and if he was keeping clean and out of the headlines. So, when Dean called for help he knew it was a beckoning he would have to take.

Not willing to dwell on the fact that Dean wasn't around, Benny walked along the doors of the motel rooms until he came to his. Taking a long breath, contemplating what to do next, he eased the door open. The room was empty, as he had suspected, but it never hurt to exercise caution when dealing with such things. If there was one thing his time in Purgatory had taught him it was to beware of your surroundings and take nothing for granted. Anything could be a threat and a threat could be anything. They could also come out of nowhere and when you least expected it. That, he reasoned, was what made it so pure as opposed to this dull existence he now lead.

Making himself at home, he tossed his bag on the bed. He wouldn't be needing it yet, but what he would need was his cell. Checking his jacket pocket he found that it was still there. Letting out a small sigh of relief he flipped it open and checked to see if Dean had in fact called him and he had simply missed it. No new calls. Taking a moment to think it over, he decided he would call Dean and see where he was. It wouldn't hurt, right? Scrolling through his numbers, of which there were not many, he found the one he was looking for and brought the small device to his ear and waited. It rang once before he heard the familiar sarcasm Dean was known for declaring that he had, in fact, reached Herman Munster's cell and he could leave a message.

"Dean," Benny said to the voicemail as he looked around his room, "I'm in town. Call me, Brother. Let me know what's what. I'm here to help, as requested. Look, I...I'll meet you at your motel. I'm in room thirteen. Just down from you." The line went dead. Benny closed the cell and rested it on the dresser. Glancing over to the clock he saw that it was only just beyond seven in the evening. He would have time to check the room the Winchester's had rented before either one of them would be back. Never even know he was there.

As he left the room he saw a vehicle drawing closer. Unsure of who it was, he backed himself against the wall and waited as the car, obviously not Dean's Impala, came to a stop. He watched as it kept running, unsure who was in the car, and saw the familiar figure of Sam Winchester climb out. It didn't take long before the stench of Dean's brother smacked Benny in the face and he felt himself become tense. He knew it had been days since he last fed, but it would have to wait. Sam thanked the driver of the car as Benny watched him leave.

Sam approached the room Dean had been renting and eased open the door. Benny listened, closely, as Sam's cell went off. He couldn't make out the conversation, but he could tell that it wasn't a friendly one. Sam seemed to be upset with the caller, almost as if he was betrayed, and clicked the line off. He knew something was up, but he didn't know what it was. Inhaling the air, Benny could tell that Dean wasn't in the room. "Can we trust you, Sam Winchester?" he asked himself as he moved with a slow caution to the room Sam had entered. Benny knew he was playing roulette with his own life now, but he had no choice. His blood brother had called on him and he was a man of his word. Sam might know more about the situation and welcome him, but he doubted it would be a warm embrace awaiting him.

"Whose there!?" Sam shouted from inside the dark room as Benny drew closer. He knew Sam knew he was there now and it was only a matter of time before it became ugly if he didn't announce himself. Listening, he could hear the hammer moving back on Sam's Taurus. "I know someone is over there, now show yourself." Sam demanded. Benny could smell the tension brewing in Sam. It was becoming almost too much for him to handle now.

"Sam Winchester," Benny announced as he rounded the room, "I know we don't have much of an understanding, but Dean has asked me to come up and help on this case. I would very much like it if we could speak." Sam came out from where he was hiding and thrust Benny against a wall. Moments later he found himself with Sam's weapon in his face, the cold steel pressed firm against his cheek. "Now this isn't a very welcoming response, Sam. I mean no harm. I came to talk." He tried to reason with the youthful Winchester but he knew he was only blowing smoke out of his ass at this point. Something was wrong. "Sam, I'm going to ask you to let me loose or I will do something I believe we will both regret." he warned. Sam released his grip on the vampire and holstered his weapon. "Now, was that so hard? I mean, really." Benny smirked.

Biting his lower lip, Sam looked directly at Benny. "Where's Dean? Do you know what happened to him?" Benny was taken aback by the question, unsure of how to answer. "Who am I kidding. You wouldn't fuck with him." Sam mused aloud. He could tell now the fear he was tasting wasn't because of who he was, but because of the brewing situation. "Dean's missing."Sam said, taking a seat across from where Benny was standing. From the look on his companion's brother he knew that he was being dead serious. Something was up.


	14. Collateral Damage

_**Chapter Fourteen:  
**__**Collateral Damage**_

Frustration coursed through Sam's veins as he walked out of Elliott Michaels' office and out of the Gold and Silver Gentleman's Club. He knew before he had even walked in that Michaels wouldn't have been of much use, but he turned out to be even less than Sam had expected. Running a hand through his hair and clearing it away from his eyes, he found himself wondering if Dean was having any better luck with Dr. Baker at the county morgue. Glancing around the parking lot he noticed almost immediately that the Impala was nowhere in sight. Sam didn't think much of it, however, and took in the area. A few hundred yards down the road he saw a McDonald's and decided that he could wait for Dean to call and have a Big Mac while he was waiting.

As he walked down the street, he watched as the steady flow of cars and trucks went rushing by him. His mind drifted a little and he found himself thinking about what Dean had said earlier about not wanting to be with him; about not wanting to "let loose" and have a little fun. Sam had defended his idea of what fun was, having a drink at the bar, but Dean had been hell bent on taking him to the club instead. Part of him wanted to throttle his brother for not listening. Part of him wanted to be left alone. And another small bit of him wanted to let himself have fun with Dean and forget about this dangerous road they had been on for so long now. Sam knew he was becoming weary, and his stay with Amelia, no matter how brief, had been a swift reminder of it.

His thoughts were broken, however, by the sound of an ambulance rushing by. Sam didn't think much of it, but noticed that it was heading in the same direction that Dean had left in. Blowing it off he continued his trek to McDonald's. Suddenly, there was a sharp pang in his stomach, and he felt the familiar sense of dread wash over him. His mind bounced back to the fact that about a year ago the Leviathans had been using food as a means to dumb down human kind to make them easier prey, but as he felt the fear of eating something that would make him dull he remembered that Kevin had mentioned that Dean and his actions had helped put an end to that. Relieved, he continued to walk to the McDonald's and run through their menu as he tried to decide what he wanted.

Reaching the door to the McDonald's Sam could smell the familiar scents of teen angst, desperation, and french fries filling the air. Chuckling to himself he remembered an article he had once read about the fast food chain that stated that no one over the age of six actively aspired to be there, but everyone eventually found themselves eating the food of depression. Standing behind the two lines that had seemed to form he looked over the menu to see what was being offered. Nothing sounded like something he would have liked to eat, but he finally decided that if he was going to eat there he would settle on a salad. Taking a step forward the oily faced sixteen year old behind the counter asked Sam what he wanted. "Caesar Salad. Oh, and what the hell. I'll have a warm apple pie and medium drink. Eat in." Sam replied.

Sam waited as his salad was set out on his tray, followed by the empty drink cup, and his warm apple pie. His number was called, he took his tray, and shuffled along to one of the booths near the back of the store and sat down. He was about to drive his fork into the salad when his cell vibrated in his coat. Resting the fork down, he removed the cell, and set it out on the table. He noticed that the number wasn't Dean's and let it switch over to voicemail. Taking the first bite of his salad, he could taste the stale lettuce, and fought the urge to spit the food out of his mouth. He hadn't eaten in a McDonald's in a long time and the stale lettuce of his salad was the reminder he required to understand his own logic behind it. He knew there was a reason he never let Dean stop at one.

Knowing he wouldn't be able to eat the rest of the salad he moved the tray away from himself and took a swallow of the sweet tea he had settled on. Checking his cell, he saw that the caller had left a voicemail for him. Punching the numbers he brought the cell to his ear and listened. "Sam, I know our deal hasn't been hashed out quite yet, but I would like to make you an offer you can't refuse. Call me back and we can talk about this. I love you." Sam felt his heart sink as he realized that he would soon have to the choice between Amelia and Dean. It didn't help that he had been secretly taking her calls, vanishing on Dean, and playing at it being nothing. If Dean found out the wrong way...he knew his brother would never forgive him for lying.

Walking over to the trash can to dump his tray Sam knew he would have to tell Dean what was going on. Where he had been disappearing off to, who he was talking to on the cell, and what his intentions were once this case was over. He owed him that much. As he watched the salad slide off the tray he caught the pie and debated on eating it. He knew it wouldn't taste half as decent as some of the "home made" types he was used to from the countless diners that he had made Dean eat at, but it couldn't be as bad as the stale salad. Taking the chance, he collected his sweet tea and walked out the door and out into the cold evening air. It was colder out than he had thought it would have been as he watched his breath form a shallow mist and drift off.

Brushing his hair out of his eyes he looked down the street to the club and found that he didn't see the Impala. Reaching for his cell he checked again to see if Dean had called him, but he found nothing but disappointment. No call. Scrolling through his contacts he found his brother's number and hit dial. It didn't take long for the line to make a connection, but after the first ring it went directly to Dean's voicemail. Sam knew this meant that his cell was turned off. A sense of unease caught Sam as he thought back to the ambulance, but brushed the thought from his mind as he remembered that Garth would still be in the area. He could call him for a ride back to the motel. Dean could have turned in early and forgotten that Sam was still at the club or was tied up with Dr. Baker. There was nothing to concern himself with.

Garth answered the call on the fourth ring and was delighted to hear from Sam. Sam filled him in on the situation with Dean and where he was and asked if he could swing around and leave him at the motel. Garth apologized for not being able to, but he mentioned that he could have Ryan Brendan pick him up. Sam shuddered at the thought, but agreed as long as Brendan didn't try and lick him. Garth laughed at the notion, but stopped once he realized that Sam wasn't screwing with him. Sam thanked Garth for the help and clicked off. Now he would have to wait on his ride, but this allowed him a few minutes to think to himself and run through the case in his head. He found, that out of everything, the only thing that didn't make sense was the deaths themselves.

The first seemed like it was a Leviathan, in fact, Sam had believed that it was. Had Dean not mentioned the fact that Cas might be lying about it he would have never had a second thought. Then there was the woman who seemed to have died without a reason, only to have been brought back by Cas for an unknown reason, and then left. That still didn't sit well with Sam. Cas was never one to be straight, but he was also never one to keep secrets from the brothers and all of the sudden he was. And then, there was the latest victim, the bouncer who had been sucked dry as if by a vampire. Sam knew there was nothing out there that acted like these vastly different beings, but if what Brendan had mentioned earlier was right, he could be dealing with something new. A mimic, he had called it. Sam had never come across one in the lore and was unsure if another hunter had ever, but this didn't mean it couldn't have come from Purgatory when Cas had released the Leviathans.

Sam was brought back to reality as a loud smacking sound echoed through the parking lot. Looking in the direction of the sound he knew it was Brendan. "Gun man!" Brendan shouted out of the driver window as he saw Sam. Sam wanted to melt into the sidewalk in that moment, but moved towards the vehicle and climbed in. Brendan looked over to Sam with a wide grin and offered him a bag. "Can I, uh, interest you in some Mary Jane? Grew it myself...or I bought it from someone. I can't quite remember! But this is some serious shit, man. You should have some. Need some? I have plenty!" Sam motioned for him to set the bag down and drive. Brendan was hesitant for a moment, but after Sam let him know where he was heading it didn't take long for him to lurch the car forward and on the road.

Twenty minutes later Sam was rolling up to the motel with Brendan. As he motioned for him to stop Brendan tried to offer him one more hit from the bag, but Sam said he had to be up early and wanted to be able to think straight. Brendan nodded and watched as Sam left, but caught his attention as he was leaving. Sam wasn't sure what he was talking about, as it was mostly coming out in fits and starts, but he mentioned something about hearing someone matching Dean's descriptions over the scanner earlier. Sam asked him how he hadn't thought to mention this earlier, and Brendan blew him off. Frustrated, Sam walked over to his motel room and eased the door open. Something, however, didn't feel right about the whole situation and he drew his weapon, slipping to the other side of the door just out of sight of someone on the other side.

Before Sam had a chance to do anything else, his cell went off. Knowing Dean might be in trouble he knew he would have to answer it. "Hello?" he asked. There was a faint voice on the other end of the line asking if he was Sam Winchester. "Yes, what's this about?" he asked. The voice told him that they had found this number in the pocket of a man, Dean McQueen. "Where is he?" Sam demanded, but before he could have the answer he heard the rustling sound outside his door again. "I'll call you back." he said to the voice and clicked it off. Leaning against the wooden frame of the door he drew his weapon and trained it on the evening outside.

"Whose there!?" Sam shouted as he heard the stranger drawing closer. Sam couldn't tell who or what was there, but he knew something was outside his door. Pulling the hammer back he braced himself now for whatever was lurking. "I know someone is over there, now show yourself." he commanded. His tone was firm and authoritive. Sam tensed as the sound drew even closer and a figure emerged in his door.

"Sam Winchester," a familiar voice said showing itself, "I know we don't have much of an understanding, but Dean asked me to come up here and help on this case. I would very much like it if we could speak." the man said. Sam watched as his face became clear and the voice had a name. It was the vampire that Dean had been talking to. Rage took over before Sam could control himself and he thrust the vampire against the wall, shoving his weapon in his face, pressing the cold steel against the creature's cheek.

Sam could see the faint signs of fear spreading through the vampire as he twitched slightly. "Now this isn't a very welcoming response, Sam. I mean you no harm. I came to talk." Sam knew he wasn't the most trustworthy of creatures and pressed tighter against him. "Sam," he spoke slow and stern, "I'm going to ask you to let me loose or I will do something I believe we will both regret." Seeing the vampire was right Sam released his grip and the vampire choked, grasping at his throat. "Now, was that so hard? I mean, really." the vampire smirked.

Biting his lower lip now, Sam directed his attention to the vampire in the room. "Where's Dean? Do you know what happened to him?" Sam watched as the vampire's expressions showed no sign of understanding what he was asking. Sam could feel the same dread as earlier wash over him and felt a sense of defeat. "Who am I kidding? You wouldn't fuck with him," Sam said feeling the pit of his stomach churning with fear, "Dean's missing." Sam finished, taking a seat across from Benny. He was now running in circles with no leads and nothing to head off on.

"Dean is missing, you say." Benny mused. Sam wanted to throttle him for driving the fact home further, but fought back his hatred. "You're right. I know nothing of that, but what I do know, and I'm sure you do as well, friend, is that Dean can more than handle himself. If he's in trouble you can bet he can find his way out of it." Sam knew what the vampire was trying to do. He was trying to soothe his fear and lull him into something. Sam wouldn't let him in. "So, where does this leave us, young Winchester?" the vampire asked, clearly leaving the choice with Sam.

Sam ran his hand through his hair and tried to think. The call from earlier wasn't one he was expecting and the voice sounded like it was coming from a busy room. "The call," Sam said aloud snapping his fingers, "the call I received before you came in...it came from someone who had found the number on Dean." Sam mused. Benny seemed to be considering what he was saying, but said nothing. Sam's mind raced as he tried to make sense of what it might mean. "Busy." Sam mused aloud, now standing, and pacing back and forth.

"Hospital." the vampire offered. Sam spun around and faced him. "You said it was busy. You didn't know them, and the number was found on Dean. It's a chance that he's in the hospital. At least, I reckon that's where he would be because when I called him earlier it went directly to voicemail." Sam listened as the vampire spoke, his southern drawl coming out with an almost sing song cadence. "That would be my best thought. I could be wrong. I hope I am wrong." Benny said looking down, studying his hands. Sam noticed this, but thought nothing of it in the light of his brother's situation.

Sam let out a long breath and thought about it. It would have made sense, considering he would have known who had called otherwise. There was also the faint sounds bouncing around in the background that Sam was able to almost make out. "You could be right." Sam said, finally. A smile broke out across the vampire's lips and Sam felt an unease creep over him. "I'll call around and find out what hospital he might be in...there's only two in the area, I think. Call this number and see if you can have this man pick us up. We'll need a ride. If not, we'll need a cab." Sam directed. He had a lead, not much of one, but he had something and as he dialed the first number his mind went back to the ambulance he saw as he was leaving the club and everything started to make sense.


	15. Grey Matters

_**Chapter Fifteen:  
**__**Grey Matters**_

Dean felt cold. He brought his collar up on his well worn leather coat and shifted his weight. Something was wrong, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. Glancing around he found that he was alone in the woods. For a moment his mind shot back to his time in Purgatory. Becoming tense, Dean braced himself for the worst. As his eyes darted back and forth, he found that his vision was becoming increasingly blurry. Out of reflex he shook his head and listened. If something was hunting him he would be ready for it. "Come on, you son of a bitch." Dean said aloud to the wilderness in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye he caught something moving and drew his Colt 1911 .45 ACP. Tension was coursing through him as he readied himself to find that it was only a deer. "Son of a bitch." he muttered to himself and lowering the weapon. It was obvious to him now that he wasn't in Purgatory, but in the wilderness of Roanoke, Virginia.

Feeling himself relax a bit, he holstered the Colt and continued to take in his surroundings. He knew he was no longer on the road. He tried to knock loose the memories of how he ended up where he was, but the last thing he could remember was driving along the highway, having left Sam at the club, and making his way to the morgue. He closed his eyes and drew in as much oxygen as he could, but it was of no use. He couldn't remember anything after that. The next thing he knew he was standing in this damp forest, cold, and feeling tense; on edge that he was back in the depths of Purgatory. Something was missing from his memory, but he shoved that down and tried to locate the road. If he could do that he could find the Impala.

As he walked, he could hear the leaves crunching under his boots. He didn't remember it raining, but for some reason the woods were damp, and there were other inconsistencies. It was light outside now, as opposed to dusk when he had left Sam at the club. The air was thicker, his breathing shallow, and while it should be freezing out he was only cold. There was also no ambient noise of humanity buzzing. He couldn't hear cars driving along a road, the low hum of electricity in the air, or smell the stench of food floating around him. Dean found himself becoming confused and tried to focus on the task at hand - locating a road or the Impala - and shove the doubt in his mind back down. He could deal with the missing time later, but as he thought about he realized that while everything around him was moist or damp, he was oddly dry. Untouched by the rain he had imagined occurred during that span of time he couldn't account for.

All of these things echoed through Dean's mind like a bullet through flesh, but he knew he had to continue on. Checking the trees around him, saw that there was no moss, something his father had taught him to look for. He knew that if he could locate a tree with moss he would be able to find North and with a little luck, civilization. But as he wandered through the woods, checking the various trees he came across as he went, he found nothing. "Okay," he said to himself, "next best thing. I'll check for a stream or something." Dean knew damn well that if he could find running water he would be able to reach humanity. There was no doubt in his mind, but as he watched the sun dance across the sky he found nothing. No moss, no water, nothing. He could feel his heart sinking in his chest and he sat down on a rock to collect his thoughts.

"None of this makes sense!" Dean shouted aloud. His voice echoed through the forest, bouncing across the never ending rows of trees and hills, and shooting back to him. Something wasn't right about where he was and he tried to collect his thoughts enough to make sense of it, but he found he was unable to reason it out. For a moment he found himself wishing that Sam was with him. Sam would be freaking out, but he would also have an idea. He would be able to deduce where the two of them were and how to find a way back, but as he thought of Sam he realized that he was all alone. The fear was sinking in and he found that he couldn't fight it any longer.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean caught something moving. Drawing his weapon he trained it in the direction of where the sound was coming from, half expecting it to be another deer, but as he listened he could tell that it was something bigger. Dean stood up, slowly, on the rock he was sitting on readying himself. The sound became louder and Dean felt himself become more intense, his heart rate lowering, eyes scanning the lines, and his mind sharp. Bringing the Colt up now enough to line the sights with what was ahead of him, he climbed off the rock and used it as a rest. If nothing else it was something to have between him and the noise.

"Dean..." a male voice spoke aloud. Dean cocked his head to the left, trying to discern who or what it was. "Dean, you can come out from behind the damn rock." The voice was familiar to him, but he was unsure who it belonged to. As he shifted his weight from behind the rock he caught a glimpse of who the voice belonged to and felt a wellspring of emotion course through him. "Do I have to repeat myself or are you coming out?" his father asked, annoyed. Dean kept the weapon raised, but inched his way out from behind the rock.

Weapon still trained on his father, Dean was clear of the rock. In the distance he could hear the faint sound of rain bouncing off the leaves of the trees. Again, Dean noticed that while it was raining, he was still dry. "Who are you?" Dean demanded of the man standing in front of him. "I know you're not my father. So, what the fuck are you?" Dean kept the weapon on him as the man continued to draw in closer to him. Dean found himself moving back as the man inched forward. "Stop. Stop right there or I will paint these woods with cherry pie." Dean threatened. The man stopped coming closer and raised his hands, slowly.

"On that you would be half right, Dean." the man replied. Dean shifted his weight and tried to make sense of what the man was saying. "I'm sure you have noticed that it's raining and we're dry." Dean looked himself over. The man pretending to be his father had a point. Dean couldn't deny that. "I'm sure you're asking yourself about that right now. 'How am I not wet in all of this rain?' or 'why is my dead father standing in front of me asking me what I'm thinking about.' Am I right, Dean? You know I am." the man mocked. Dean started to lower the Colt and let out a sigh.

"I don't care how right you might think you are, you don't know the first thing about me. Now tell me what the hell is going on and I might not blow a hole through you." Dean demanded after returning his weapon to the man. The man laughed and looked up at the sky. Dean followed his gaze and noticed that despite it was becoming darker, it wasn't as dark as it should have been. Something was definitely wrong. Dean knew he wasn't in Kansas anymore. "Okay, you have until three to tell me what's going on or this will get ugly." Dean brought the hammer back and waited.

The man shifted his weight and ran a hand through his hair. "This will be difficult to handle, but you're locked inside your own mind, Dean." The words seemed to fill the air, but nothing sank in for him. "Look, I know you don't believe me, but the evidence is all around you. I'm here, this forest, and the rain. Think about it, Dean. This looks an awful lot like Purgatory. Perfection." the man spoke slow now and Dean could feel himself becoming colder now. "You're not as cold as you might think you are. Though, I don't know. You don't know, so logically, I won't."

Dean could feel his head throb a little from what his father was saying. "Great, so I'm stuck in my own head, in what isn't Purgatory, talking to myself. Can this day be any better?" Dean asked as he sat back down on the rock. The man sat down next to him and offered him a flask. "Now I'm drinking with myself in my head. This is worse than the time I was reading about myself sitting in a laundromat reading about myself. God, now my head is really sore." Dean said taking a drink from the flask. "At least mind-beer doesn't suck." Taking a deep breath, Dean tried to work up the courage to ask what was on his mind, but didn't know how to ask it.

"No, you're not dead. I know you're wondering if you are and I can say without a shadow of a doubt that you're not dead. Not yet. But, I would vote that you're bad off." Dean wanted to choke his father, rather, his own mind's version of his father, but he knew that he was right. If he was dead he would have seen a Reaper or been confined to Hell. This was different. "Might as well make the most of it, though. I know I am." John said knocking back a hit from the flask. "Oh, and Dean, it could be awhile. You might want to make shelter or something."

Dean scoffed. If what he was being told was true then it wouldn't matter. If he was in his mind he would never have to worry about eating, drinking, and other details that haunted him in his daily life. He was free of that for as long as he would be stuck where he was. "That won't matter," Dean reasoned with John, "you know that as much as I do. I know it, so you know it. This might seem like it's real, but like you mentioned, in my head. So, I can control this." Dean thought to himself. As he did, he tried to change something about the woodlands he was in but, he found that nothing happened. John chuckled and offered him the flask. "Why can't I...?"

"Dean, you might be in your own mind, but the fact of the matter is you don't have control over this. You can fix it, make it what you want, or alter the fabric of reality. It doesn't work like that. You should know that better than anyone." John explained. Dean felt a sense of confusion building. If he was in his own mind he should be able to at least change small details about his situation. "I wouldn't do that if I was you. There's nothing you can do that will make this any better." John said, reaching over to where Dean was. Dean retracted back and drew his weapon on John. John rolled his eyes. "Dean, don't make me lay you out. That would be bad form." Dean's face drew tight as his eyes locked on the man who said he was his father.

Dean swallowed and backed a few inches away from the rock. "Oh, but see, that's where you're wrong. I know this isn't all in my head because if it was I would be able to change things. If I can accept that then it would show that this is something else. So, I'm thinking I do want to do this. I'm thinking it might be something I might benefit from." Dean watched as John jumped him. Smacking his hand on the rock, a sharp pain shot through his hand, and cause him to drop his weapon. John found the Colt and drew it on Dean. "Do it, you son of a bitch." he said, looking down the barrel of the .45 Colt. He could feel the sweat creeping out of him now and tried to hide the fear that was edging in on him.

"This is where we will have to agree to disagree, Dean. I don't benefit from blowing a hole through you. That was what you were threatening to do to me, wasn't it? Blow a hole through me. Lovely idea. No, I don't believe that would help me." John explained. Dean felt his head becoming numb with confusion as he scanned the situation for an out. "See, I need you to let me out. I need to be free from this fucking prison I have been locked in for so long now...God, what fun it will be once I'm out!" John exclaimed. Dean noticed he was waving the weapon now and saw an opening. Bringing his legs around, he knocked John on his feet and sent the Colt flying out of his hand. Dean listened to the faint sound as it bounced down the hill and off several rocks along the way down. "You son of a bitch!" John shouted, but it was too late. Dean was on top of him.

Dean drew his knife from his side and rested it against John's throat. A small trickle of blood inched out and along the blade. Dean brought himself low and whispered in John's ear. "This is the deal. You're going to tell me everything. If you lie," Dean forced the knife down a little bit and caused more blood to seep out, "I will cut you. You lie to me too much and, well, you won't be leaving anything. You won't have a head to leave with." Dean issued the command and watched as John blinked to acknowledge that he understood. "Good, now, you're going to tell me how the fuck to get out of this hole and tell me everything you know..."


	16. One Breath

_**Chapter Sixteen:  
**__**One Breath**_

There was a sharp noise that echoed through the halls of Carillion Hospital's Intensive Care Unit as Sam and Benny burst in. Several of the nurses and doctors looked up from what they were doing as the two men rushed in and made a direct line to the nurse's station. Sam wore a look of absolute concern as he drew closer. He could feel his stomach knotting again and tried to swallow it down. Dean had been in the hospital before - they both had - but this time felt different. "I'm looking for Dean, Dean McQueen." Sam said to the first nurse he came across at the desk. Several feet away Benny was speaking to one of the doctors trying to ease out some information.

The woman behind the desk asked Sam to calm down and she would be able to help him. He could feel his stress level climbing with each passing second and tried to relax his breathing. "You said the name was Dean...McQueen?" the nurse asked, half confused. Sam thought about it for a moment and offered their real last name. "I do have a Dean Winchester. He's in surgery right now, however, and I'll need to ask you to have a seat." Sam felt a sense of relief wash over him, but it was quickly replaced with panic when he was able to understand what was being said to him.

"You said he's in surgery?" Sam asked, his voice breaking. The nurse checked the record a second time and offered him a curt nod. "How...how long has he...how long as he been under?" The nurse replied that she had no idea, but he had been admitted about two hours earlier. Sam did the math in his head and realized that the ambulance that flew by him could have been transporting Dean or running to pick him up. "Thank you." Sam said and went to take a seat, but before he reached the seat his mind forced him to spin back to the nurse. "Do you know if the vehicle he was in was damaged, or how bad it was?" The nurse let out a long sigh and told him it wasn't too badly damaged.

Walking back to the waiting area Sam saw where Benny was and sat down next to him. "I wasn't able to get anything out of the doctors, Sam." Benny said, his tone reflecting a hint of remorse. Sam was unsure of how to handle being with the vampire, however, he knew he meant well and was only trying to help him out right now. Sam had to deal with the fact that their time in Purgatory had brought the two of them close. Benny was like a brother to Dean, and Sam could see that right now as he waited with him, the same tension brewing under his cool exterior as Sam's own. "Look, Sam, I'm sorry about this. I really am. I feel like I should leave that out there."

Taking in a deep breath Sam didn't know what to say. "Benny, I don't like you. You're right about that, but this last hour has shown me that you love Dean as much as I do and that's enough to earn my respect. Once this is over we might have to talk about some shit, but for now, you have my respect, but don't ask me to like you or think of you as a friend." Sam ran his hand through his hair and felt the sweat from his palms soak in his hair. A chill shot down his spine and he shivered. Benny looked over at him, but Sam blew it off. Benny rested back in his seat and closed his eyes.

Leaning back in his seat, Sam lost track of time. His mind drifted and he found himself thinking about Amelia and what she had said to him, about her offer, and about the information she kept asking for about Dean. He wasn't quite sure what she was looking for, but he knew it wouldn't matter if he went back to her. His mind also drifted back to Dean and what this accident might mean. The Impala hadn't been damaged, he had been able to track it down at the local impound, it was ready to be driven off the lot once he arrived, but the windshield had been smashed. The driver, he was told, had been thrown through it. Sam knew this was the reason Dean was in surgery right now. He had flown through the front of the windshield.

"Sam Winchester?" Sam could hear his name being called and his attention shot to a doctor who was standing with a chart in his hand. "Sam Winchester?" he asked looking at Sam as he stood up and came over to him. Sam nodded and he checked the chart. "Sam, I have some good news and I have some bad news about your brother. Which would you like first?" the doctor asked. Sam swallowed hard and tried to decide which would be the best course of action. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Benny walking over to the coffee vending machine and buying a coffee.

"The bad news, I suppose." Sam said shoving his hands in his pocket. Benny walked over and handed Sam a cup of coffee with a smirk. Sam was unsure what he was trying to do, but it was a welcome and quite unexpected gesture coming from someone who several hours earlier had against the wall with a gun barrel shoved in his face. "Thank you, yeah, I think I'll take the bad first and we can work our way up to the good." Sam said with a nod. He braced himself as the doctor shifted his weight and balanced the chart on his stomach.

Chewing his lower lip, Sam knew it was bad from the expression on the doctor's face. "Mr. Winchester," he said with a friendly tone, "your bother suffered severe head trauma when he went through the windshield of the vehicle. There was extensive damage done to his facial area and he lost a lot of blood from lacerations on his throat, chest, and arms. Now, we will feel confident that he will survive this, but it will take some time and he might not be mobile for quite some time. You need to be ready for that and you need to make him ready for that. Also," the doctor continued, "because of the head trauma there was some cerebral hemorrhaging. I'm afraid your brother's in a coma right now and we don't know when he will wake."

Sam felt the weight of the diagnosis and almost fell back. Benny was behind him before long, but Sam was able to catch himself before he lost his footing. "Coma?" Sam repeated, not believing what the doctor was saying to him. It was as if he was speaking to another concerned family member; as if Sam was outside of his own body and watching someone else hearing the news. "Dean's in a coma." he repeated again. The doctor nodded and rested a hand on Sam's shoulder. Retracting Sam backed up and shifted his weight. "You must be mistaken. That's not...no. I refuse to believe that." Sam said, trying to compose himself, but it was no use. Benny stood next to him and took the coffee from him before he dropped it. "A coma?" Sam couldn't stop saying it now.

"Yes, as I mentioned, your brother is in a coma. I know this is difficult to take in, but I must ask that you calm down." Sam continued to listen to what the man was saying, but his voice only came out in small as a small echo in a vast cavern of emotion. "Would you like the good news, Mr. Winchester? I do have some. I can't say that it will make light of what you have now, but it might offer you some small ray of hope in this." the doctor offered. Sam continued to sway on his feet and Benny moved to catch him if he lost balance.

As Sam felt himself drifting a sense of nausea coursed through him. The walls were coming down around him and his thoughts were vanishing behind the distant echoes of others walking around him. "Yes, friend, what is the good news in this matter, if I might ask?" Sam heard Benny speaking. He tried to choke out the same question, but nothing would come. He was thankful for Benny in that moment, even if he wouldn't come out and say it. Benny rested an arm around the youngest Winchester as he became weaker. The doctor looked over at him and asked Benny if he was okay. "He will be. This is a lot to take in, for the both of us, but he's taking it a bit harder than I am, I do reckon." Benny replied.

"Good news is, and I'm sure your friend will agree, is that we expect him to have a full recovery. It will take time, though. It won't be waking up in the morning and everything's back to normal. Dean will need time, therapy, and there will be a struggle. Make no mistakes there, gentlemen. It won't be an easy road to recovery, but I do feel confident that over time he will heal and be back on his feet. He might be walking with a cane, but he'll be walking." the doctor offered. Benny smiled to him and Sam shuffled, uneasily, to the seating area. "You can check in on him when you're ready."

Sam tried to force down the feeling of dread that was coursing through him. His mind raced with a hundred what if scenarios. What if he had taken the Impala and went to the morgue? What if he had asked Dean to tag along with him to the club? What if he had been with Dean when the accident happened? What if. As he ran through the options, his mind kept returning to one thing. According to the report that the officer had mentioned over the cell he was in a head-on. Dean was an exceptional driver and would never have swerved the Impala into on coming traffic unless he had a reason. The question became what was the reason? Sam couldn't think of one as he took a sip from the now room temperature coffee Benny had offered him.

"When you're ready, Sam, the doctor said you could check in on him." Benny offered, kindly. Sam still didn't know how he felt about the vampire being there, in a hospital, with the sick and dying. He knew from what Dean had mentioned that he survived on blood packs and he was right in the middle of an all you can eat buffet if that was the case. Still, he had shown signs of compassion that Sam wasn't aware the vampire was capable of. "I'll wait until you've been in to see him before I do. I wouldn't want to distract you from your brother." Sam looked over to him with a questioning look. "I can smell the hatred on you and the fear." Sam knew he had a point and didn't feel like debating it.

Trying to stand Sam knew he would have to see how bad his brother was. In his heart he knew he had seen worse, terrible things creatures had done to others, but nothing quite as bad as the doctor had explained to him that he would be seeing with Dean. As he shuffled to the room where Dean was located, he stopped for a moment to collect himself. Taking in as much oxygen as he could, he eased open the door.

The sound of the respirator echoed through the room as he entered and Sam knew it was bad. It was in that moment that he knew his brother was, without a doubt, in a coma. As his eyes drifted across the room to the bed, he saw his brother was motionless. His chest moving only slightly as the machines did the breathing for him. Sam felt a chill as he drew closer. "Dean?" he asked aloud. His mind shot back to the accident with the Impala about ten years earlier when their father had sacrificed himself to save Dean. Was Dean in the room now? Stuck between life and death? Sam tried to brush the thought back in his mind, knowing that would mean nothing but bad news, and reminded himself of what the doctor had said about him making a recovery.

Pulling a chair up next to his brother's bedside, Sam sat down and took Dean's hand in his own. He felt cold and unresponsive. Sam fought back the emotions that were welling up to the surface as he tried to find something to say. "Dean, I don't know if you can hear me...but I'm sorry for leaving you alone. I know this isn't my fault, but it feels like it is, and I will do everything I can to fix this. You can count on that." Sam watched as his brother's monitors remained the same. It was as if he was speaking to a shell and not his brother. He had never seen him so still, so silent, so calm. It was quite off-putting to him as he looked down at his elder brother.

There was a sudden knock on the door as a nurse came in and checked on Dean's vitals. Sam asked her how he was doing, despite the fact that he had arrived in the room less than an hour, but it didn't matter to him. This was Dean. The nurse said he was doing as well as someone who was in a coma could be and that it would be awhile before he came out of it. Sam nodded and went back to holding his brother's cold hand. He silently hoped that the warmth of his skin against Dean's would bring him back, but he knew what we would have to do. He would have to make a deal. One that he couldn't worm his way out of. One that he knew he might regret.

Taking one final look at his brother's semi-lifeless body, Sam let out a long sigh. "I know you won't forgive me for what I'm about to do, but I have to. You've done it for me and now that the tables have turned...Dean, I don't have a choice. I have to do this." Sam's words cut through himself more than he thought they would have. Turning to leave the room Sam knew it would be awhile before he saw his brother again, but he wouldn't be coming back until he had a solution.


	17. Lines in the Sand

_**Chapter Seventeen:  
**__**Lines in the Sand**_

Dean could feel the cold, damp air on his skin and drew his collar up. Glancing around he found himself in a dense wilderness, alone. Out of instinct Dean reached down and removed his Colt. Resting the weapon at his side he cocked his head to the right and listened. The elder Winchester felt himself becoming tense and raised his weapon. From his left he heard the soft report of feet sulking along leaves on the woodland floor. Shifting his weight and directing himself to the source of the noise, Dean saw the doe that was slowly making her way through the woods. Letting out a sigh of relief, Dean rested his weapon at his side and bit his lower lip. Something was wrong.

Moving through the woods, his training kicked in, and he found himself checking the trees for moss, listening for the sound of water, and the faint sound of cars on a road. Brushing a low branch from his face he noticed that none of the trees had moss on them. "Well," he spoke to himself, "that's a horse of a different color." Brushing the lack of moss to the back of his mind he continued to listen for either cars or water. It didn't take long for him to realize that neither of these things would be found. Dean knew something was wrong now. The question became 'what' and he tried to do what he felt Sam would have - take in his surroundings and make sense of it.

The sharp report of something moving a few hundred yards ahead of him caused Dean to tighten himself and draw his weapon. Flashing back to his time in Purgatory, he threw himself against the back of a thick oak and listened. Something was drawing closer to him now, but the only detail he could make out was that it was bigger than a deer. As he steadied his breath Dean inched his way around the wood and tried to see what was coming at him. The distinctive noise of leaves being crushed under the weight of a man echoed through the woods and Dean braced himself.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw the creature responsible for the noise. He couldn't make out what it was, but he knew it was about the size and weight of a man. Holstering his Colt, moved his coat back, drew out his knife, and readied himself for what would come next. "C'mon, you son of a bitch." he muttered under his breath as he waited for the right moment to strike. To his shock, the man stopped moving and started to whistle. Confused, Dean fought the desire to betray his position and take the thing out right away.

"Dean, I know you're behind that tree. You can come out." the man spoke slow, clear, and with an almost sing-song tone. Dean knew right away who it was. "I have something I would like to speak to you about." As he considered the proposal his head suddenly started to throb with an extreme intensity that he wasn't expecting. Dean was unable to keep himself standing and dropped to his knees. The man rushed over to him and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Dean," the man spoke and Dean craned his neck to see him, "can we talk?"

Cas shot his hand down. Dean tried to wave him away, but found himself taking the angel's hand. "You talk. I'll listen." Dean announced as the angel brought him up on his feet. There was a long moment of confusion as Dean watched his friend try and make sense of what he was saying. "Don't look at me like I have six heads. You know damn well what the fuck I'm talking about." Cas continued to look at Dean, confusion drawn tightly across his features. Dean bent down and collected his knife, replacing it back on his side, and folded his arms. Cas shifted his weight. Dean could sense that there was something off about his angelic friend, but like the woodland he was stuck in, he couldn't quite rest his finger on what was wrong with it. "I'm waiting."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Dean." Cas defended himself. Dean couldn't stop the scoff that escaped from his mouth as his friend looked him over. "Honestly. I have no idea what you're speaking of. This is the first I have seen you in almost three weeks." Dean shook his head in disbelief. He knew all too well that was a lie. He had last seen him the evening before at the motel where he had a small fight about keeping secrets. "I came as soon as I knew you were in trouble." Cas said, looking at Dean with an intense concern for him. Dean found himself confused by the angel's words and actions. "Are you in trouble, Dean?"

Dean ran his hand through his hair and noticed that his hand was dry. "I'm fine, Cas." Dean lied. He looked around and saw that the area around them was damp. If it had rained recently, unless he was behind some type of cover, should have been at least damp himself. "Something's not right about this place." Cas looked over at him and nodded. Dean shot him a concerned look. "What do you know about this, Cas? What the hell are you not telling me?" The angel shifted his weight uncomfortably and looked around. Dean followed his line of sight.

"You don't remember." Cas said with a nod. Once again Dean found himself confused. "Dean, I don't know how to say this but you're stuck in your own mind." Dean scoffed his friend again and rested one hand on his hip while running his free hand through his hair. "I know this is difficult to accept, but we are in your mind right now, Dean. In fact, this is not the first encounter you have had here. You have already encountered Sam, your father, and now myself. Though, the encounters with Sam and your father were your fractured mind trying to make sense of this. I am not." Cas explained. Dean lowered himself and felt the woodland floor. It was dry as well.

Cas watched as Dean tried to make sense of the situation. "Let's say you're right. How can I tell you're not another one of those fractures?" Dean asked. He felt it was the most logical question he could ask. Cas considered the question. "I don't think so," Dean snarled as he drew his knife the knocked the angel off his feet, "there's no reason to think about it, Cas. I think you're another bit of this mind fuck. That's what I'm starting to think now." Dean threatened. Cas searched his friend's eyes. Dean could see him working it out now and removed himself from on top of the angel.

"I don't have time to explain, but I need you to trust me. Dean, I have not been the one who has been lying to you the last few days." Cas climbed to his feet and dusted himself off. "The one you have been dealing with is not me. It's an imposter." Dean tried to swallow it down, but a laugh escaped his lips before he could contain it. "This is no laughing matter, Dean!" the angel shouted at him. Dean nodded and turned to walk away when he felt a strong force knock him down. "I don't have the time for your shit, Dean. Listen."

Dean rolled himself over to face the angel and scoffed. "I don't believe you. You have been keeping shit from me and now you want me to believe I'm stuck in my own head. What, like I'm in some kind of coma or something? Cas, I'm sorry, but that makes no damn sense." Dean reasoned. Cas walked closer to his friend. Dean shuffled back a few inches and fought his way back to his feet. "Prove it. How do I know this isn't some sick angel mojo trick?" Cas thought about it and handed him a rock. "What, is this some kind of fucked up Charlie Brown thing?" Dean asked, but as he spoke he noticed that even the rock was dry, despite the fact that it showed signs of being rained on.

"The rock is dry," Cas said motioning to the rock, "but as you can see it has been raining in this forest. How would that make sense?" Cas motioned around them. Dean considered it now, and threw the rock. Cas had a point. "The reason I'm here Dean is because I sensed you were in danger. You are, in fact, in a comatose state right now. In a hospital." Cas confirmed. Dean felt his stomach ache, almost as if he had been smacked with a ton of bricks. "I can see your unease, but it doesn't change the effects of flying through your windshield." Dean took a step back and looked at Cas. "The facts don't much matter in this case. What does is I need your help."

Dean braced himself for what was coming next. Cas might have lied to him before, but what he was saying was starting to make more and more sense to him. "Okay, I believe you. Now what's this about needing my help? How can I help you if I'm sitting in a bed taking an extended nap?" Dean asked. Cas cocked his head and bit his lower lip. "I'm not sleeping with you in my head." Dean said, clearly trying to lighten the mood, but Cas looked as if he had asked him to declare God didn't exist. "What can I do, Cas? If what you're saying is true, I'm no use to you."

"I haven't thought much about that, but I can still make use of you." Cas replied. Dean was about to open his mouth when Cas cut him off. "Don't ask stupid questions. I can bring you out of this comatose state, but it won't last long. You will slip back in. I need you to send a message to -" Cas explained, but was cut off. Dean blinked once and the angel was no longer standing in front of him. Confused he looked around, but found nothing.

Frustrated, Dean threw his hands up and shouted as loud as he could. "Great! Leave me like you have been. That's classy, Cas. In the middle asking for help." Dean tried to reign his anger back. "Wonderful, I'm back to being alone in Dean's Mind Land." he said to himself. He knew there would be no sense in looking for Cas now. If he was telling the truth and he was in his own head, it would do him no good. He would find himself walking around in circles. Accepting the defeat Dean sat down on the woodland floor and rested his back against one of the tall oak trees.

After what felt like days Dean stood up and looked around. Nothing had changed. It was like being back in Purgatory. There were no 'days' and 'nights'. It was all one long day. The air was never warm or cold. Just static. Like where he was right now. Part of him wanted to believe that this was Purgatory, that he had never really escaped, and everything he had experienced over the last four and a half months was a delusion of his own fractured mind. It made sense to him, more than what Cas had said before he abruptly vanished without a trace.

Unable to sit still much longer, Dean found himself back to looking for a way out. It didn't matter to him if Cas was right or not. Just because it was his own mind he could find a way out. There had to be, right? He had found a way out of Purgatory. This should be nothing for him. But as he walked and checked and listened his mind became numb and he felt the weight of the truth crushing down upon him. He decided he would test a small theory. If it was his mind, he couldn't kill himself. Drawing his weapon he raked it and readied himself. "God, I can't do it!" he shouted throwing the weapon off to his side. It skipped across a few rocks and rested several feet away.

As he moved to pick up the weapon he felt a strange sensation course through him. It was like something was pulling at him, trying to lift him off his feet. Fighting the increasing feeling of unease he bent down to pick the weapon and without warning, he felt himself being ripped straight up. He could feel himself moving rapidly towards something, but he wasn't sure what it was. His eyes could barely make out what he was seeing, but of what he could make out he saw the woods rushing past him without a sign of slowing down.

Seconds later he felt his lungs explode with oxygen. Choking he reached to his throat and found that there was something in his mouth choking him. Two cold hands shot out in front of him and removed the tube that was shoved down his throat. Dean felt disoriented and confused, but he could hear a male voice speaking to him. "Welcome back to the Land of the Living, Brother."


	18. The Left Hand

_**Chapter Eighteen:  
**__**The Left Hand**_

Benny watched as Sam walked out of Dean's room. "Sam," he said catching the younger Winchester's attention, "how is he?" Sam bit his lower lip and looked around nervously. Benny didn't know Sam well enough to read his emotions, but he knew that Dean wasn't doing too well. "He isn't doing well, is he? You look a bit..." he said, letting voice do the talking for him. Sam let out a long sigh and searched his eyes. Benny found himself feeling a bit uncomfortable locking eyes with his blood brother's brother, but he knew he didn't have a choice in the matter. This was one tango he couldn't avoid.

"I don't care what the doctor's are saying," Sam said with an intensity that caught Benny off guard, "I don't think he will make it out of this alive. I have to talk to some friends and make a few calls, if you'll excuse me." Sam brushed against the vampire and continued to walk. Benny watched as he left the area and felt a small sense of relief wash over him. Sam might have meant well, but if he was right about Dean then there was nothing that he or any of his friends would be able to do to help him. Benny knew quite a bit about the endless loops of deals the Winchesters had made and knew their time had run out on the offers that would be taken.

Taking in his surroundings, he found that it would be easier than he thought to handle the situation. Satisfied, he continued to walk to Dean's room and braced himself. He knew what to expect of his blood brother's situation; he could smell the transfusion blood coursing through him and the faint smell of death lingering over him. As he entered the room he had to fight back the swarm of cravings that were overtaking him and drew close to Dean. He watched as his chest lifted and fell silently, assisted by the breathing machine he was attached to. It was a sight that Benny had not seen in quite a long time, but knew what it meant. The doctor had lied about Dean's chances. This was obvious to Benny as he looked over his friend and rested his hand upon him.

* * *

If it was to be done, he knew he couldn't waste that much time. As he considered the choices ahead of him, he thought back to his time with Dean in Purgatory. He could still smell the recent wounds that the human had suffered from a fight with another vampire. The fight had been one that neither one of them had been ready for, but were able to hold their own. At least, he had been able to. Now and then he would catch a glimpse of the human being beaten and thrown around, weak and frail, but still able to climb to his feet and level the field. "Benny!" the human had shouted as one of the vampires had brought him down and was about to make a snack out of him. Benny knew if he wanted out he would have to keep his Soul Train alive.

Tired of dealing with the vampire in front of him, he drove the knife through the vampire's chest and threw him against a rock that was close by. There was a loud report as the vampire's body went limp. Satisfied the creature was dead, he rushed over to where the human was. The vampire on top of him was inches away from Dean's neck when Benny was able to reach down and take the creature by the neck and thrust him back. An expression of shock and fear was etched across the human's face as the vampire directed his attention to the creature that was about to devour his friend. There was a loud choking noise as he listened to Dean climb to his feet, but his attention was locked on the thing in front of him.

The vampire showed his fangs as Benny brought his hand up swiftly to his throat. There was a loud hiss as the vampire tried to fight back, but Benny's grip was crushing the creature's throat. He knew that the human was watching, that he was studying his friend's brutality, but this wasn't a time for being humane about how he dealt with this vampire. "I'm sorry, brother." Benny said to the vampire as he dug his nails into the vampire's throat. In one swift move he ripped out the creature's throat, blood spraying his face, and covering him. The vampire's body became limp and he could feel the dead weight in his hands. Once he was satisfied that the creature was dead, he threw the corpse to the side and returned his attention to the human.

The human, Dean Winchester, was heaving and out of breath. Amused, he walked over to check on him. He had noticed that while the human could keep up with him and his kin, he wasn't as fast or as deadly as he liked to believe he was. He had also noted that since the angel left, Dean was becoming less and less useful. Soon, Benny realized, he would have to carry Dean about instead of following him. Something would have to be done, but the question of what lingered in the air. Brushing this to the back of his mind, he assisted the human to his feet. "Thanks, I was almost toast back there if not for you. I owe you one, Benny."

"Speaking of such things, I'm wondering what it would take for you to dust yourself off and make it the rest of the way to the exit without being vampire food or Leviathan bait." Dean retracted at the vampire's words, but Benny knew that he was right. Dean was slowing down, becoming exhausted, and the exit was still a bit out of reach. "I'm not saying you're losing your touch, Brother, but you're slowing down a bit. Something has to improve with you or we'll both be staying." Dean reached down and picked up his weapon. Benny watched him intensely, aware that there was a stench of fear coming over his companion.

"About that," Dean said still catching his breath, "I need to talk to you about something." Benny folded his arms and waited for Dean to stop heaving and breath normal. "I know this is kind out of the blue, but I want you to turn me." The human shifted his weight. "I need to be faster, stronger, and I can't do it like this. If you weren't here I would have been fang food." he continued. The human had a point, but Benny scoffed at the idea. This would do nothing for either one of them. "Benny..."

The vampire stopped his friend before he could continue. "Dean, I like you. I do, but becoming a vampire isn't something you aim to be. I know it might seem like a wonderful idea, but trust me when I tell you, Brother, it isn't everything you like to believe that it is." the vampire explained. Dean tried to open his mouth to protest, but Benny wouldn't hear it. "No, I'm not doing it. I need you to be human to leave this shit hole and so do you. It's a portal only human's can use. God's back door, really. If you're a vampire like me, well, you won't be able to use it and where would that leave us?"

He watched as Dean ran his hand through his hair and rested his free hand on his hip. "How do we even know there's an exit? Have you seen it? We've been looking for months!" the human shouted now. Benny bit his lower lip and tried to think of how to let his friend down. "I need this. I can't survive much longer like this, Benny. You know that as well as I do! I have become useless." Dean rested the weapon against the tree and folded his arms. Benny watched as his friend shifted his weight and waited for his response.

But the vampire had nothing else to say. "I won't do it, Dean. You should know that by now. But I will make you a deal." the vampire said, unable to control his own words now. "Once we're out, should you reach this same conclusion, that you want this, I will turn you. But only under the terms that you're on the edge of death. That's it." Dean nodded and shot his hand out. The vampire thought about it for a moment and shook on it, sealing Dean Winchester's fate right there in the middle of Purgatory. Nothing much else was spoken about the deal and once the two were out, it was all but forgotten. At least, that was what Benny had been led to believe.

* * *

As he loomed over his dying friend, he knew that he would have to make right on his deal. Reaching down to check on Dean's pulse he knew that it was becoming weaker with each assisted breath. Glancing around to make sure he was alone, the vampire leaned in. He could hear the soft clicks of his heart-rate bouncing around the screen, up and down, and knew he would have to work fast once he had done what was now being asked of him. Taking a moment for himself, he lowered his teeth and bit Dean's neck. The human showed no signs of noticing, but as he drew the blood out of the dying human and into himself he watched as undeath took over and Dean convulsed.

Moving with a speed few could have believed existed, he reached to remove the breathing tube out of his mouth, but before he could Dean had shot up and was choking on it. He was able to remove it and smiled over to his friend, who was extremely pallid. "Welcome back to the Land of the Living, Brother." Dean looked over to him, confused, and disoriented. "We don't have a lot of time to speak or waste. You need to feed and clothing. Follow me." The vampire watched as his friend tried to collect himself and climb out of the bed. Benny knew he would have to help and moved to stand next to him to act as a crutch. "Do you have clothing here?"

Dean seemed to be confused by the question and Benny knew he wouldn't. He would have to find something for him - and fast. "What...where..." Dean muttered as Benny led him out of his room and down the hall. Several doctors looked at the duo, but Benny smiled and told them he was taking his friend outside for some fresh air. Moving through the hall they would receive a few looks, but it was as if no one cared what the two of them were doing. No one thought much of it. Benny scanned his mind for a source of blood. He knew there wouldn't a lot of it on tap, but he would need something fresh for Dean. The choice was simple.

Satisfied no one would think much of them, Benny led Dean down to the morgue and rested him on one of the seats. "Dead man's blood." Dean continued to mutter. Benny knew too well that he couldn't use that. Benny asked him to wait there a moment while he left to find someone to help. Dean nodded and Benny went looking for the attendant. He didn't like the idea of having to kill someone, but this was a desperate time and he had no choice. "God, I feel..." Dean shouted in the distance. Benny did his best to find someone faster, but he was having no luck.

Rounding the corner he almost walked into a young blonde woman wearing scrubs. "Oh, hello. Can I help you?" the attendant asked. Benny smiled and asked if she would follow him. He explained that he had a friend that wasn't feeling too well after losing his brother and that the two of them were there to identify the body. The woman smiled and followed him to where he had rested Dean on the chairs for a moment. "He doesn't look so well." she commented. Benny smiled and watched as Dean's eyes sharpened and his teeth emerged from his gums.

Benny watched as his friend fed on the woman, unsure of how to do it, and weak. He wanted to help, but he knew that he would have to learn on his own. The sight was one that he wasn't expecting, but he knew it was more a matter of need than desire. Soon, the woman's limp body was cast aside and his friend filled with color. "Better?" Benny asked, fully aware of what he had done to his friend. Dean nodded, brushing the blood from his mouth. Slowly his wounds started to heal and a sense of satisfaction welled up inside of the vampire. "We need to find you some clothes now." he said as his friend looked himself over.

"God, what have we done?" Dean asked. Benny knew that he would be questioning him, demanding to know what he had done and why, but he also had to remind him that it was his idea and that he was on the edge of death. "What did you do to me!" Dean shouted, thrusting Benny against the wall. Benny smiled and motioned for him to lower him. "You made me a monster." His voice was low and direct. The vampire nodded and reminded him that this was their deal. "That would explain the hospital and lack of clothing. So, it's done? I'm..." Dean said but was cut off by his cell. Benny watched as his friend looked down at it and saw that it was Sam. "Sammy?"


	19. Out of the Frying Pan

_**Chapter Nineteen:  
**__**Out of the Frying Pan**_

Sam knew he had crossed the line, but he didn't care. No one was willing to do what it would take to bring Dean back and he wasn't about to let his brother sit in some hospital bed in a coma and wait for him to recover. He knew from how the doctor was speaking that most of what he was saying was total bullshit. The chances of Dean waking up and being able to walk were slim. It was a reality that Sam wasn't yet ready to face; not without first trying to do everything he could to bring his older brother back. He knew Dean would have done it for him and he wasn't about to let him down a second time. Not after the fighting and the distrust that came from him running.

Glancing around he could feel his muscles becoming tense and his mind sharpening. It was a familiar feeling, standing in the middle of the crossroads, having preformed the required ritual, and now waiting for the Crossroads Demon to show up so he could right the wrong. He could feel the blood starting to trickle between his fingers and watched as several drops hit the ground and splattered in a strange shapes. Everything was becoming heightened as he waited. This he knew would be a tense meeting, a meeting that he hadn't expected to be having, and one he would not walk away from without what he came for. He would summon as many demons as he had to achieve his goal.

"Sam Winchester, as I live and breathe." Sam spun around to meet the demon face-to-face. "I wasn't expecting to see you so soon, but...well, here we are." Brendan said with a smirk. Sam felt a sense of confusion smack down upon him. "You had to see this one coming, Sam." Brendan said with a hint of mockery to his tone. Sam composed himself and drew his weapon, directing it at the demon, and waited. The demon smiled at him and motioned for him to come a bit closer. "You didn't come all this way to blow a hole through me, Sam. What do you want?"

There was a pregnant silence as Sam thought about what he wanted, how to make it work to his benefit, and not cheat himself. "Dean's in a coma." The demon laughed. "I don't think that's a very funny thought, you little spineless son of a bitch." Sam's tone was boiling with intensity. Brendan nodded and kept his attention locked on Sam. "This is the deal. You're going to bring him out and no one's losing their soul tonight. Or in another ten years." Sam said, making sure he was clear with his intentions. He knew how cleaver the demons had become.

Brendan smiled and brushed back some of his hair. "Good deal, Sam. I like it. But, you see, I can't make it happen like that. I need something in return - you understand - and while your soul is tempting...I don't believe that it would do. Now, Amelia's soul..." Brendan offered. Sam knew where this was heading and felt himself becoming more upset with each passing syllable. "Her soul would be worth quite a lot. What do you -" Brendan said, but was cut off as Sam shot him in the knee.

"I don't think I was unclear," Sam said looming over the demon, "I said no one was losing their soul tonight - or in ten years. I don't care what you have to do to make that work, but you will do it or I will blow another hole in your meat suit." Sam could see the sweat rolling down the side of the demon's face. He felt bad about shooting Garth's friend, but who knew how long this demon had been using him as a meat suit? "Do I make myself clear?"

The demon tried to smile, but all that it could muster was a distorted show of teeth. "Sam, I'm trying to work with you. I'm trying to make this work out for the both of us, but you're not letting me. I need something to take back with me." the demon reasoned. Sam drew the hammer back on the weapon and aimed it at the demon's other leg. "Think about this! You want Dean back, I want your pretty little bitch's soul. I'm sure we can work something out." Sam considered it for a moment and shot the demon in the other leg. "You fucking wretch! I'll swallow your soul!"

Sam watched as the demon tried to escape from Brendan's body, but couldn't. Smiling, Sam knelt down to the same level as the demon. "You should have learned...I might not be drinking demon blood any longer, but I can still make it difficult for you. Now, about that deal." Sam said, lowering the weapon to the first wound. The demon howled as he applied pressure to the hole with the barrel. "Have I made myself clear about what's going to happen?" The demon spit out a mouthful of blood and shook his head. "I can do this all night." Sam said, once more applying pressure to the wound.

"You can't win," the demon said between each labored breath, "this is one fight you won't win, you worthless little fuck." Sam stood up, using his weapon as a brace, and watched as the demon howled louder now. "I can't make this deal!" Blood flew out of the demon's mouth and smacked on Sam's shoe. Looking down Sam frowned and drew the weapon on the demon. "Shoot me again. I dare you." Brendan said, his eyes burning like coals now. Sam considered it for a moment and shot the demon again, this time in his right hand. "You fuck!" the demon spat at Sam, blood cascading out of his mouth as he looked at the gaping hole in the middle of his hand now.

"Didn't I say I could do this all night?" Sam asked the demon. "'Cause I could have sworn I did a moment back. I want Dean back. Make it happen." the youngest Winchester said. The demon tried to move away from him, but Sam was too fast. "Did I say you could leave?" he asked. Brendan smiled a mouthful of blood. Sam cringed at the thought of what he was doing, but knew he didn't have a choice. "One more time before this becomes very ugly. I would like to have Dean back. Now." His tone was stern, but the demon didn't seem to care. Taking a long breath Sam reached down for the wounded demon and gripped his throat.

The demon's eyes went black and widened with fear as Sam smashed him on the Impala, shattering what was left of the windshield. "Okay, okay, okay!" the demon shouted as Sam shoved the weapon against his left hand. "We can make a deal, but..." Sam wasn't listening. He didn't care. The demon howled with excruciating pain as Sam drew his knife and drove it through his right hand. "I can make a deal!" Brendan shouted. Sam cocked his head and locked eyes. "Just don't...back off, you sick fuck." The demon tried to worm free, but all Sam would allow him was space to sit up. Looking over he saw the knife was still firm in the demon's hand.

"Speak." Sam said, keeping an eye on the demon. The demon laid it out for him. He couldn't make a deal without a soul. That couldn't happen. But, he was willing to bend the rules a slight bit for Sam because he was so convincing. He could take someone else's soul, but not Amelia. No, he would take the soul of someone like Garth or even this sorry bastard he was wearing right now. "What makes you think I don't care about the people you're talking about condemning to Hell? Honestly. And where would I be if I let you do such a thing?" Sam asked. The demon considered the question, but before he could answer Sam was back at him, his hand wrapped around his throat once more.

The demon was able to break free of Sam's hold, but was unable to catch his breath. Between coughs of blood he tried to reason a bit more with the Winchester. "You might like to believe that you're high and mighty, Sam Winchester, but you know as well as I do you're no better than Lucifer. You should count yourself lucky that you were even able to make out of his cage alive." Sam cocked his head but the demon motioned with his left hand to ease back. Blood dripped on the Impala's hood as his hand moved back and forth, the gaping wound becoming worse with each new gesture. "Back to what I was saying. Give me the soul of this meat suit," the demon said looking himself over, "and you can have your lover back. I'll make it so Dean is as he was before the wreck."

Sam debated the deal with himself as the demon tried to free himself from the hood of the Impala. "I don't like that deal." Sam said and drew the weapon. The demon went to say something else, but before he could say anything Sam had shot him in the head, a black smoke escaping from the lifeless body. "That went well." he muttered to himself as he unlatched the knife from the body's hand and cleaned some of the blood off before replacing it on his side. Now he would have to wait for another demon to show up to make a deal. Still, he didn't care. He would clear the deal one way or another.

As he waited, he removed the shovel from the trunk and dug himself a hole to leave the corpse of Ryan Brendan in. He felt bad about having to take the man's life, but he knew that it was a mercy. He had no idea how long the demon had been walking around using him and it was for the best. Once he went Dirty Harry on the poor bastard it was over. He couldn't live with himself if he let the man live like that. Even if it was in the name of saving his older brother's life. It was no excuse to take the man's life, but he didn't have a choice in the matter.

Once he had taken care of the body he found himself once again waiting. He didn't know how long it would take, but he knew it had already been about an half an hour. Something wasn't right. Once again he drew his weapon and waited. He knew someone would should, but he was now on edge and leaping at even the slightest sound. As he was about to clean the blood off the hood he felt a slight breeze and spun around. He was face to face with a young redhead woman. "That wasn't very nice now was it Sam?" the woman asked. Sam rolled his eyes and drew his weapon on the woman. "Don't shoot, Tex. I'm unarmed." she said slinking a few feet away from him.

"This is the deal we're willing to offer. Amelia's soul for Dean. There's no debating it, no altering it, and no bouncing around it. After the stunt you pulled you're lucky I'm even standing here, Dear-heart." the woman said, leaning a little bit to entice Sam. Sam closed his eyes and let out a long breath. Leaning back on the Impala he watched as the demon sashayed and folded her arms. "Sorry, handsome. That's the deal. Take it or leave it."

Sam licked his lips and moved closer to the woman. "I'm not taking that deal. I told your friend," Sam said looking over to the freshly dug grave, "and we know how it ended for him. I would hate to have to do the same to you. Such a beautiful face." Sam said caressing the demon's face. The woman retracted and took a few steps back. Sam shrugged and waited for her counter-offer. "I'm listening. If you have a better idea. The deal still stands I was offering him."

"Oh, but Sam, what kind of fool do you take me for?" she asked. Sam was becoming tired of dealing with the demons. As he walked back to the Impala there was a loud noise that caused him to spin around. The demon he had been dealing with was laying on the ground and the black cloud escaping from her mouth. A man dressed in black was looming over her body and Sam, out of instinct, fired off a few shots, but the man kept coming at him. Soon everything went back.


	20. Around the Bend

_**Chapter Twenty:  
**__**Around the Bend**_

Ross checked himself over in one of the broken shards of the mirror that was in Rosie's room. He could feel his new skin shift as he moved, more than normal, and felt a pang of concern wash over him. Using the broken bit of mirror he checked himself over. With his right hand he rolled the flesh under his eyes around, watching as the skin stretched and shifted back and forth, trying to collect enough to see his own musculatures under his new skin; the flesh he had stolen from the club owner. To his relief he was unable to see himself under the new flesh. "Something still feels off." he said to his brother, who was standing across the room.

David looked over at his brother and scoffed. "There's nothing wrong with the flesh, now stop before you tear it and make something wrong with it." Ross released the shard and listened as it smacked the floor and shattered into even smaller shards. "You know what it could be? The fact that you spent the last three and a half weeks wearing that stripper's skin. Damn, she was a hottie." David shot his brother a mischievous smirk. Ross rolled his eyes and walked over to one of the couches. "What? You were; well, she was. You know what I mean."

David continued to talk, but Ross had stopped listening to him. Despite what he might have believed, it wasn't as easy as his brother thought it was. "Yeah, well, next time you can be the woman. You can have men stare at you while you're taking your clothes off." Ross mumbled. David acted like he didn't hear him, but Ross knew he had. His older brother had a habit of blowing him off when he was focused on something else. "What are you doing? You know he won't care what the fucking room looks like. Just so long as the Winchester bastard is alive and breathing." Ross spoke slow and loud, enough to catch his older brother's attention.

"I don't care what the hell he wants or doesn't want, once this shit is done with...we're leaving." David said. Ross was surprised at his brother's sudden interest in leaving. "I'm done playing that red eyed son of a bitch's bitch. He can find someone else to do his dirty work." Ross could tell that his brother wasn't messing with him, that he was sincere in his desire to leave the demon's employ. "We can make a new life for ourselves in Canada or something." he muttered. Ross nodded and motioned for his brother to sit across from him in the chair that was situated a few feet in front of him.

"Bold," Ross said as his brother sat across from him, "do you really think he'll let us out of the deal? I know we have done more than he was asking with that angel, but I have a feeling that we might have signed our own death warrants." Ross mused. David folded his arms and sank back in the chair. "Really, I don't think he'll let us walk. I know people like him and..." his voice trailed off. David scoffed. "Would you stop and listen to me? This is real. We're real. Like it or not, we can't walk away from this shit any longer." Ross tried to reason with his older brother but it was no use.

David reached into his cream colored overcoat and removed an old looking revolver. "That's fine," David said in a conspiratorial tone, looking over the weapon, "he can do what he likes, but this is our insurance policy." Ross looked over at his brother with a sense of deep concern in his eyes. Something was off about him, almost dangerous, but he brushed it out his mind and focused on the issue at hand. "This, this is our ticket out, Ross. Trust me on this one."

Ross crossed his legs and leaned back trying to look casual. "What's so special about that gun? You know damn well that Red Eyes would brush that off like he did when you tried to blow a hole through him a few months back. In fact, you're kind of lucky he didn't smite your ass right there." Ross reasoned. David laughed and reached out with the weapon, motioning for Ross to take it. Ross shook his head and uncrossed his legs. "I'm not risking it. I like this life we have now. It's better than living in the slums, wondering where our next meal will come from. That bitch might have made us freaks, but you know something? We're better for it." David shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Ross knew that talking about the brunette woman who made them what they were was a kill shot.

"Back the fuck off, Ross." David warned. "I will not speak about that bitch ever again. I don't care who she was, is, or might have been. I didn't ask for this and as I recall neither did you. So, leave it where it is." Ross listened, but knew what his brother was saying behind the words. He was still sore about the fact that he was the one who had invited Eve to come home with them and lead them to becoming the shape shifting freaks they were now. "She might have fucked us over and I might have been responsible for that, but you're the stupid fuck who let us become entangled with Red Eyes."

Ross could feel the pang of discomfort that struck him as his brother spoke. He had never intended for things to become out of hand. "Look, you can blame me for this all you like, but we're being more than compensated for what we're doing." Ross knew he didn't have to defend himself, but the compulsion was still there. "You know as well as I do we might not walk away from this deal, but at least we're not rotting in some cave like you would have liked us to be. I'm becoming sick of running. I want to settle down, meet someone, have a life." David scoffed. "What? Is that too much to ask?"

David shoved the Colt back in his coat and stood up. "Yes," he said directing his attention back to his younger brother, "because you know as well as I do...the skin you wear doesn't last long. I'm shocked Rosie's lasted as long as it did. Now shut the fuck up and check on the wretched son of a bitch in the back room. I'm sick of listening to your shit." he said decisively. Ross let out a labored sigh and climbed off the couch. "And remember, Red Eyes wants his alive. No skinning him." his brother said, walking out of the room.

As he walked to the back room Ross shoved his hatred for his brother down. He had been the lucky one in the encounter with Eve. He was able to shift between skins without having to take a life, he could do it at will, but Ross couldn't. When his flesh suit became too worn he would have to find someone else to become; taking them captive and working their flesh with acute precision, making sure not to slip and then wear them like a suit. This meant that he would have to continually take someone's life to conceal his own freakish condition. At first it bothered him, but over the last two and a half years he had become used to it, almost taking a sick sense of delight in it. But it also meant that he was never able to stay as someone for very long.

Drawing closer to the door, he could hear the slow breathing of the two captives he had in the back room. Part of him wanted to skin the one that David was masquerading as, but he knew David wouldn't let him do it. There was also the fact that their employer wouldn't allow for either one of them to be devoured. He also knew that it would be best to remain on the better side of the demon they had been calling 'Red Eyes' because of the color his eyes would become when he showed that he wasn't, in fact, human but a demon. That had been a long lesson that he wasn't expecting, but following what Eve had done to him he wasn't shocked such things existed.

As he cracked the door his mind went back to the evening he had first come across the demon. He had been wearing the skin of some college student he had met a week earlier. David was off handling a bank run so the two of them could make a run for the next state. David always wanted to rob the bank, but Ross wouldn't let him. He was better than that and so was his brother. Yes, he would say when David reminded him of their previous life, they would run cons, but neither one of them had ever taken a life or stolen more than they needed to make it to the next time.

Ross had been trying to unwind a bit when he saw a man dressed in an expensive business suit. Unable to control himself, he looked over the man. He was older, in his mid-forties, but he was well kept for a man of his age. Ross could tell that he was muscular and could hold his own, something he lacked in his current state as a bookish twenty something. As he continued to take in the businessman's features he noticed that he had wispy brunette hair, though it was converging in a widow's peak. The man looked refined and that was something that Ross had always wanted to be. Refined. Respected. So, it was in that moment that he made his choice to skin the bastard and wear him like a wet suit.

He spent half the evening watching the man from a distance. He had never handled an older man before or one quite as refined as he was, and he found himself oddly attracted to him, but he brushed it off as being a left over from the skin he was wearing. The young man must have been homosexual, he thought to himself dismissing the attraction to the man in the business suit. After several hours he finally worked up the courage to sit down next to the man and introduce himself. "I'm Ross." he said, shooting his hand out for the man to shake.

The man looked him over and shook his hand. "You're wondering what a suave son of a bitch like me is doing in a shit hole like this," the man said as he shook Ross' hand, smirking the whole time, "well, you no longer have to wonder. I'm in sales, as it were. And I'm looking to make a few deals. You wouldn't be interested in making one, would you?" he asked. Ross was caught by surprise with the man's brutal honesty and direct nature. "You look like you could use something. Something I can make happen. What do you want...Ross?"

Ross shifted in his seat and felt his fingers becoming loose. Out of reflex he shot his hand under the bar and directed his attention to the man. "I wouldn't mind something to do." Ross lied. He could tell that his skin was becoming torn and he would have to do something and do it soon before he lost it and revealed himself to be the freak he was. "I could use a job." The man smirked and took a hit from his drink. "What are you drinking?" Ross asked trying to keep the man's attention from him.

"Glencraig," the man said not paying much attention to Ross now, "and I might have something open for someone like you. Meet me at this address in, oh, about two hours?" the man offered. Ross felt a sense of relief wash over him. He could make this work. Little did he know that when he arrived at the address the man revealed that he knew all about Ross and his brother and he wanted their help with...an interesting matter. Ross considered the offer, a substantial amount of money, and the rest was history. He had been working with Red Eyes for the last eight months.

His attention was shot back to reality as he walked through the door and into the room. One of the captives was trying his best to untie himself for him chair. "Stop," he said trying to sound demanding, but unable to feel it with his new vocal chords, "or I swear to God I will slice your fucking face off. Do you want that, pretty boy? Do you?" he started to shout at the younger one. The captive rocked back and forth in his chair and knocked himself on the floor. "I don't have time for this." Ross pulled the captive up and removed his hood. "Sam, I know we don't see eye to eye, but you need to make a call." Sam spit in his face and Ross smacked him. "Do it."


	21. Do the Wrong Thing

_**Chapter Twenty-One:  
**__**Do the Wrong Thing**_

All he wanted was to be able to do the right thing, to make up for everything he had managed to ruin along the way. This had been his original intention, as it were, but as he found himself bound and beaten in the back room of some unknown location he had to face the reality that he had failed this time. Cas continued to try and look on the bright side of things - this is what Dean would have done - but with each passing moment he found it increasingly difficult to do such. He also knew that if he survived this, he be spending the rest of his time on Earth devoted to helping Sam and Dean. Not that he minded that much, it was still the fact that he had tried to help and failed.

Thinking back Cas tried to trace the origin of how he had managed to screw the case up and find himself where he was now. His mind felt fractured, and the memories were a haze, but if he focused enough he could almost create a timeline. Cas tried to focus on the evening he had been at the Gold and Silver Gentleman's Club looking for Dean. He had known that he was there, but he was unable to locate him directly. He found this to be strange, but found he was able to locate Sam. Thinking Dean wouldn't be far off he went to Sam looking for Dean. Sam was uncomfortable, but knew that Dean wasn't too far off from where he was. Thus, Cas scanned the club.

Unable to locate him still yet he returned to Sam and asked him to find his brother. He informed Sam that he was in desperate need of speaking to Dean; he had a case that would be a interest to him. Cas was delighted when Sam was able to locate Dean, but as he exited the building he found the two were at one another's throats. This didn't seem so unusual to him, humans would often do such things, but he needed Dean to focus on the case at hand. Cas filled him in on the details and left. Easy in, easy out. Or so he had believed it to be.

Cas had to strain his mind now to remember the details that followed. He could remember showing up in Dean's motel room; making him almost leap out of skin - or at least, that's what Dean had said, despite the fact that he wouldn't be able to really do such - and waking Sam. He found it to be an odd request, waking Sam in the fashion that he had, but Dean had asked him and he was trying to make up for having frightened him moments earlier. Sam, he could remember, wasn't too pleased with the idea of being awakened by a looming angel. Still, Cas found some amusement in his reaction despite the discomfort to cause the younger Winchester.

He could remember the drive to the morgue, Dean handing him an identification badge, and checking in on the corpse of a dead woman. He had tried to revive the woman, with mild success, but Dean had overreacted and shot her. He could remember that, as well as trying to explain to Dean his intentions, but after that it became a bit of a blur. He had knocked the doctor out, unintentional but required to handle the task at hand, and the heated debate between Dean and himself. He could also recall leaving, abruptly, but he couldn't remember the reason. And then, the swift taste of shroud in his mouth, muffled speaking, and someone laying hands upon him.

While he was unable to make out much of what was being said between the two captors, he had been able to figure out that he was being held captive by two people; a man and a woman. Cas had tried to break the bonds that held him, but he found he was unable to do so. His mind strained for answers, but the best he could come up with was he was being held by a sigil. If this was the case, he feared, he was dealing with someone more dangerous than just humans. This had all but been confirmed, however, as he listened to the two of them bicker back and forth; one was quite well versed in angelic lore, the man, and the woman seemed to be upset about something. Cas was unable to discern what was bothering her, but he knew she wasn't quite as well versed as he was in his kind.

Cas found that his memories became hazier and hazier as he tried to remember what followed the man laying his hand upon him. He could remember a strange feeling coming over him and the quasi-visions he had after, though. The best he could figure was the man wasn't a man at all, but a shape shifter and using him as his new skin, but had to keep him alive and used him as a mental link. This would explain the reason he knew he was bound, but was still having vague memories of speaking to Dean and Sam at the motel, the heated fight between himself and Dean, and the car wreck. There was also a disjointed memory of a man, the owner of the club, and the woman skinning him alive. Cas could only hope that Dean would be able to find it in himself to look beyond him allowing himself to be caught, cloned, and leaving him in a comatose state.

The last thing Cas could remember was speaking with Dean in his mind and trying to convince him that what he was experiencing was his own fractured mind's attempt to make sense of what had happened. He knew that if he could reach Dean, jostle him awake long enough to send a message to Sam, that he would be able to rest easy knowing that rescue was coming. But before he could say everything that he had to he was back to the room, the taste of the shroud cover once more filling his mouth, and muffled speaking. Except now it was two men, which confused him for a moment until he remember the fact that he was likely dealing with shape shifters.

His thoughts were shattered, however, when one of the captors returned. Cas was unsure of what the noise around him was, but he was almost certain that there was another captive beside him. His suspicion was proven correct soon after when he heard the two shifters talking, loudly, about the captive next to him. The name 'Winchester' came up several times and Cas felt a sense of relief and defeat wash over him as he realized that he wasn't alone, but that one of the brother's had been taken hostage along with him. What made it worse was he knew that it was Sam, his dying hope, slowly vanishing as he knew now that Dean was his last hope and he was in a coma.

"Sam," he tried to speak through the shroud, "can you understand me? Sam." Cas knew it would be a long shot, but it was worth trying to communicate. He found he had no luck. Just as he was about to abandon all hope, the shroud was removed and he was face to face with those responsible for his capture. "You son of a bitch." he spat venom as he saw the man standing in front of him. "I will see to it that you're destroyed." Cas snarled.

Crowley scoffed. "Is that really what you want to say to the man who saved your life? I'm doing you a favor, Castiel." Cas tried to swallow his anger and direct himself enough to remain calm, but he found he was having trouble. "Besides, you try anything stupid and I'll make sure that Sam there never learns the fate of his dear brother, who is no longer in his coma, I might add." Crowley boasted. Cas could tell the demon was filled with an intense sense of self worth.

"What's this about?" Cas demanded. Crowley thought about it for a moment before waving his hand. The two shifters, one that looked identical to himself and one that looked like the club owner, moved in on where Cas was being bound. "I will end both of you." The shifters laughed and threw the shroud back over Cas' head. Through the shroud he could hear Crowley saying something to them, but he was unsure of what until the shroud was once again removed. "I demand you release me."

There was a long moment as Crowley allowed a smile to crease along the edge of his mouth. "Demand me? Who are you to make demands, Castiel? See, I don't know if you have noticed it yet or not, but you're bound to that seat with an Enochian Sigil." Crowley oozed pride as he directed his attention above. Cas followed his enemies eyes and saw what he was speaking of. "So, I don't think you'll be doing much of anything. Now, this is where you listen to me and I decide if you're worth keeping around or not. Understand me?"

Cas felt a sense of defeat as he watched Crowley speak to the shifters. "At least tell me what this is about." Cas reasoned. He knew that the demon had an inflated sense of self worth and loved to boast, so his best chance at defeating him would be to make him reveal his master plan. "I think I have that right, at the very least." Crowley considered, but said nothing. Cas looked over to his left and saw that Sam was still next to him. If he could reach Sam's mind like he had Dean's he might be able to make this work.

"What? You want me to tell you everything so you can ruin it like you've ruined the Winchester's lives? I think not. No, I'm not as stupid as you might take me for, Castiel." The angel knew the demon was walking right into his trap now. "In fact, I think your time is about done with us. David, do me a favor and remove this scum from my sight. I don't need him stinking up the place for when Dean arrives. You did have Sam call, right?" Crowley asked the shifter that looked like Cas.

"Ross had him call; I was off making sure things were moving along like we wanted." the shifter said. Crowley nodded and rested a hand on his shoulder. Cas watched as the shifter melted into a different form, one that looked like someone who could have been a friend of Dean's had he not chosen the life of a hunter. "What do you need me to do now?" he asked.

Crowley smiled and removed his hand from the young man's shoulder. "Well, it's simple. I need you to lead Dean Winchester to us. I'm sure you can handle that, am I right?" Crowley directed his attention back to the angel. "You, I still need you, so we'll have to move you along. But rest assured, Dean and Sam will die thinking you were the bad guy the whole time. Well, Sam might not, but Dean sure as hell will. Isn't that right, David?" the demon asked the shifter. The shifter nodded and left the room. Cas watched as the other one, the club owner, threw the shroud back over his head.

As the shifter went to move him, he heard Crowley remove the shroud that was covering Sam's head and say something, but he was unable to make out what it was. All he was able to make out was something about luring Dean. Swallowing his self loathing, Cas knew that if he was going to make an escape attempt he would have to do it when he was being moved and not bound by the sigil. It would be his only chance of doing it, but as he tensed himself and waited he found that nothing was happening.

Through the shroud, he could hear muffled shouts and a single shot being fired. There was a loud report as a body crashed on the floor followed by more muffled shouts.


	22. And into the Fire

_**Chapter Twenty-Two:  
**__**...And into the Fire**_

The distinctive metallic taste of blood in his mouth was the first thing that Sam could remember after his meeting with the Crossroads Demon. This was followed by the intense discomfort that came from the shroud over his head, the cotton thick and difficult to breathe through. As he tried to inhale he felt the rope that was binding his hands around his wrist chafe. He had no idea where he was or what was going on, but he knew it wasn't what he was expecting it to be. Everything was a blur until the shroud had been removed, with a swift hand, and he was looking at Elliott Michaels. "You don't look so well, Michaels." Sam commented to the sickly looking club owner.

"Stop," the club owner said, keeping his voice low, "or I swear to God I will slice your fucking face off." Sam retracted at the thought. The club owner drew a curved knife and rested it against Sam's cheek. "Do you want that, pretty boy? Do you?" he asked. Sam tried to keep his cool, but he found it was difficult with the man in his face. Sam saw a small window and decided to take the chance, but soon found himself on the floor. "I don't have time for this." the club owner lifted Sam off the floor. "Sam, I know we don't see eye to eye, but you need to make a call." Out of spite, Sam spit on the owner's face. The man smacked him, drawing blood, and shoved the cell in Sam's face. "Do it."

Sam listened as the line rang on the other side. His mind strained to make sense of who the owner wanted him to call and what it would be about, but his attention was reeled back as Dean answered the line. "Sammy?" Dean asked, confused. Sam was overwhelmed with emotion as the sound of his brother's voice echoed through his ear. The club owner continued to shove the cell in his face. Sam could hear Dean on the other end saying something to someone else, Benny, Sam assumed. "I don't know, it's Sam."

"What do you want me to say?" Sam asked under his breath. The club owner smacked him in the face again, drawing more blood. As he brought himself back to face the club owner he noticed that Cas was next to him. "Dean, I need help!" Sam shouted now. He was almost certain this was what the son of a bitch wanted. "I'm...I don't know where I am, but I know you can find me!" Sam said, faking his fear. He knew Dean would pick up on it, but not the club owner. Dean said something else and the line went dead. "There," Sam said looking down, "are you happy now you spineless son of a bitch?"

The club owner leaned back and smiled. Sam could see something under the smile, something shifting under the skin and it all became clear to him. "That's right. You're not as dull as I thought you would be." it said as some of the skin under his eye began to peel off. "Shit." Sam watched as it tried to knead the skin back, almost like bread, and felt concern come over him. "I'll be back. And when I do, you will do as I fucking say." The creature said as it left the room.

Sam looked around now, taking in the room. There wasn't much, a single window above him, four chairs in a circle including the one he was in and the one Cas was bound to. Looking up he saw that there was a sigil in blood on the ceiling and he knew that was how they had managed to keep Cas where he was. In the distance Sam could make out the door and noticed that there were three men standing there, talking. Straining to hear what was being said, he could only make it the hint of a threat. "I will end you." one of the men said.

It didn't talk long for the creature to return. Sam could smell the decay on him as he drew closer and felt himself shudder. "What do you want?" he asked. The answer, to his discomfort and shock, came from one of the other men in the room with them. He watched as the man's face was shrouded in shadow and slowly came into view. "Crowley..." Sam said, tasting the hatred on his own tongue as he spoke the name. Crowley shot him his trademark smirk and nodded.

"And who were you expecting? The Easter Bunny?" Crowley asked sarcastically. Sam tried to shift his weight on the chair, but was unable to as the creature drifted behind him and rested his hands on Sam's shoulders. "I would make a decent Easter Bunny, but that isn't why I have you here right now. No, I need something from you and your...angel friend there, isn't that right, Cas?" Crowley's tone dripped with sarcasm as he said Castiel's name. Sam could feel his stomach acid building as the stench of the creature behind him filled his nostrils. "Well, more like I need a favor."

"What makes you think I'll do anything you want?" Sam asked, spitting out some of the blood that had been welling in his mouth. Crowley laughed and the creature behind him dug his fingers in Sam's shoulders. Sam howled as he felt the nails cutting in. "I won't do it." Sam shouted, not meaning to. Next to him he heard Cas rustle a bit and watched as the other figure, one that looked exactly like his brother's angel, smacked him. Sam cringed as his mind came to the sharp realization that the Cas he had been dealing with wasn't the real Cas. "What do you want?" Sam asked, shifting his tone in hopes that he could make Crowley talk.

Crowley scoffed and sat down in the chain in front of Sam. "It's simple, Sam. I need you and your brother to stop looking for these tablets. But, really, it's more than that. Think of it as vengeance. For being an ass all this time." Sam rolled his eyes. He knew there had to be more to it than that and asked his demonic captor for more. "You won't help, Sam. Trust me. You're a tool to bring Dean. Once we have Dean we have what we need. You see, your brother is important. You might have been to Azazel's whole army thing and the Apocalypse, but now that's been shot to shit..." Crowley let his voice trail.

Sam watched as the Cas look-alike drew closer and stood in front of him. "So, what now? We wait?" he asked. Crowley scoffed at him and blasted him across the room. Sam watched in horror as something flew out of the fake angel's pocket. Crowley reached down and studied the weapon. "You fucking son of a bitch!" he shouted as Crowley drew the weapon and shot him the head. The corpse flew back and became limp, becoming someone else entirely. Crowley laughed and looked over to Sam who was now trying to catch his breath.

"The Colt," Crowley said knowingly, "I believe I'll be taking this back now. Seeing as how Dean failed to kill Lucifer with it and it was mine to start with." Sam felt a sense of dread wash over him as he realized that the Colt was within inches of him. "Can you believe this? Stupid son of a bitch thought he could kill me with this. Shame, too. I was starting to like him." Crowley directed his attention to the creature behind Sam now. "Can I trust you or do I have to do to you what I've done to your worthless brother over there?"

Sam could feel the creature's unease as he spoke. "No, sir. I wanted him to leave the gun out of this and continue on the path." the club owner said. Sam laughed to himself as he realized what was about to happen. Crowley drew the weapon at Sam, but he knew it was really aimed at the being behind him. "I'm on your side, sir!" the creature shouted. "Please, sir. I'm loyal to you." Crowley laughed and slowly eased the trigger back. "Sir, I'm with you." Sam cringed as he heard the shot go off, but noticed that there was no release in the tension on his shoulders. "Thank you." it whispered low enough that Crowley wouldn't hear it, but the younger Winchester had.''

"Good, make sure that it stays that way." the demon replied. Sam also let out a sigh of relief as he realized that the bullet would have went through him if he had shot the creature behind him. "Now, I know it will be awhile before we see Dean..."he let his voice trail again. Sam squinted trying to figure out what the demon meant by 'awhile before we would see Dean'. "That look Sam, it doesn't work for you." the demon motioned for the creature behind him to come around. "While we wait for the elder Winchester, you can have some fun with this one. I'll be back in a bit. I have some deals to make happen."

Sam could feel the blade of the creature's knife against his cheek once more. "I can't kill you - yet - but when I do I will have fun wearing you skin, pretty boy." Sam shifted his weight as he watched Crowley leave the room. Glancing over he saw that Cas wasn't moving. "Don't worry about him. We have very special plans laid out for him, but you're the one I'm focused on right now." the creature said as Sam inched himself over. The creature didn't notice as he managed to position to loosen the wrist restraints. "Now, where do I begin?"

The creature traced the knife down the side of Sam's face and started to flick the buttons on Sam's shirt. Sam cringed at the thought. "What are you doing?" he asked as the fourth button flung off his shirt. The creature looked at him, cocked his head to the left, and traced around Sam's left nipple. Slowly, the creature pressed the knife down and drew blood around Sam's nipple. Sam cringed at the pain, but was able to block it out. "There it is." the creature said as it drew in to lick the blood trickling down his chest. Sam felt more uncomfortable with each passing second. "You taste like cherries, you know that? The last one I taste was something like root beer. Oh well."

"What are you?" Sam asked trying to distract the creature's attention away from him. "You're not a Leviathan or a vampire." The creature continued to lick the blood off Sam's chest and traced a bigger circle now drawing more blood. Sam could feel his tongue run against the delicate skin on his chest. He wanted to kill this damn thing, but he knew that the current position he was in it wouldn't be possible. He was, however, able to reach his own blade and toss it over to Cas. Cas, as if he knew it was coming, caught the knife and drew it into his sleeve.

The creature lifted its head and looked at Sam. "I don't know what I am, but I know that I need blood and your blood is sweet." the creature said returning it's attention the blood now oozing all over Sam's chest. "You're mine now, Sam Winchester, and you know something? I don't care what Red Eyes says...I'll skin your fucking ass before your brother shows up just because of what that son of a bitch did to my brother. I think that's fair." he said as he drew the knife back up to Sam's cheek.


	23. Breaking Dusk

_**Chapter Twenty-Three:  
**__**Breaking Dusk**_

Dean looked over to his vampire companion and shot out his hand. Benny looked at him for a long moment before taking it. "Thank you," the elder Winchester said shaking the vampire's hand, "I owe you a lot...but I can take it from here." The two men looked across the street at the almost silent Gold and Silver Gentleman's Club. The only vehicle in sight was Dean's Impala. "I'll meet up with you in three days at the location. If I'm not there, well, you know what happened." Dean said as the vampire started to leave. Benny turned around, looked at the new vampire for a long moment, and drew him in close. Dean embraced his blood brother and lightly smacked his face. "Keep it clean."

The vampire left and the eldest Winchester directed his attention back to the club. The call from Sam had sent alarms off in his head, but he was in now condition to track him down yet. With the help of Benny he had been able to find some clothes and a car of their own, which the vampire was now leaving with, and feed. Dean wasn't thrilled with the idea of having fed upon someone, but he knew that he had no choice. He needed his strength up. Checking the time before he advanced he saw that it was now just after ten o'clock. There was enough time to save Sam and find cover to be out of the sun.

Making his way across the street to the club he could smell Sam's blood. He could feel his new senses taking over and driving him along, but he could also feel the hunger spiking. What was worse was he had fed not long before. He shouldn't be feeling like this, but like everything else, he forced it into the back of his mind. He had to focus on the task at hand. Drawing closer, he could make out the stench of several other creatures within the building. Part of him had expected Sam to have taken out the mimics, but he was in a coma and couldn't account for such things.

"I'm sorry, but the club's closed tonight." a muscular black man said as Dean approached the door. Dean smirked and watched as the man crossed his arms across his chest. "You're not making it through me, Winchester." Dean cocked his head and watched as the man's eyes shifted from their natural hazel state to black. Without a second's hesitation the demon reached out to hit Dean, but he was too fast. Using his new abilities he swung behind the demon, snapping his neck as he went, and watching as the black cloud escaped from the dead man's body. Satisfied, Dean sank his fangs into the man's corpse - he was dead - and slated his hunger.

Dean cleared his mouth of the man's blood and walked through the first set of doors. Despite the fact that the club was almost empty he could hear the faint sound of music playing. Bursting through the second set of doors the music became loud enough to almost knock him over. It was some strange mix of rock and country. _When you came in...the air went out...and all those shadows there filled up with doubt_ a smooth voice sang. Dean laughed to himself as the song talked about doing real bad things with him. He found it almost fitting as he followed the scent of Sam's blood.

Several feet from the door to the back room Dean saw another bouncer type standing there. "Another one?" he asked. The man spun around and he recognized him as the bouncer from before. "Great." Dean said as the bouncer rushed him. Dean wasted no time in dispatching the demon and watched as the body fell to the floor and the cloud shot out of the man. The Winchester felt like he had done better with this one, leaving him unconscious instead of taking his life. Taking in the room and the smells surrounding him he knew that there were only four left. He also knew that one of the was Sam, but the other three remained a mystery. One reeked of death, one of fear, and another of demon. Taking a long breath he kicked open the back room door.

"Dean!" Sam shouted from across the room. Dean's eye scanned the room as he saw a young man wearing Cas' clothes, someone else dressed like the angel in a chair, Sam, and the club owner. "Dean, it's a shifter!" Sam continued to shout, but Dean was on top of it as the creature rushed him. Dean spun around and was able to catch the creature by the throat and thrust him across the room to where the man wearing Cas' clothes was laying. "Shit, what was that?" the younger Winchester exclaimed. Dean brushed it off and directed his attention to the hooded man. "It's Cas, Dean. He's been like this for awhile." Dean nodded and removed the hood.

Cas let out a long gasp as Dean looked him over. He was reaching behind him to undo the knot that held him, but Cas was directing his attention elsewhere. "Dean." a familiar voice echoed through his head. The vampire spun around and came face-to-face with the demon lord of Hell. Dean lowered his fangs and hissed at the demon. "Oh, nice upgrade. I must say, I wasn't expecting that one." the demon mocked. Dean could hear as Sam let out a confused cry and shot his hand back to hush him. "The look suits you, though."

"What's this about you sack of shit?" Dean demanded. Crowley laughed to himself and drew the Colt on Cas. "You touch him and I swear to God I will rip you limb from limb!" the elder Winchester growled. The demon continued to mock him and trained the weapon over on Sam. "You wouldn't." Dean warned. Crowley considered it for a moment and shot Sam in the leg. His brother screamed as the bullet went through his leg and into the floor. The vampire could smell his blood even more now as fresh blood oozed out of his brother's wound. Overcome with fury, Dean lunged at the demon, but he was too fast and Dean hit the wall.

Crowley lowered the weapon. "That was a warning." Dean spun around, blood coming out of his nose now. "You don't look so well, but what do I care? All I need is your blood." Crowley said. Dean leapt at him a second time and missed. "You should learn to control that." Dean hissed and Crowley waved his finger. "No, it's time you listen." Dean tensed as he watched the demon direct the weapon back at Cas. "I might not blow a hole in your brother, but him..." Crowley said as he released the tension on the trigger and shot Cas. Dean watched as his friend screamed and his body exploded in a bright flash. "Him, I will shoot."

"Give me one reason I shouldn't drain the blood out of you right now." the vampire's voice was low, direct, and tense. His attention shot back and forth between Sam and where Cas had been. The smell of Sam's blood was sending his mind in circles as he fought it, but he didn't know for how much longer. "Answer me!" he demanded.

Crowley lowered the weapon a second time and ran his hand through his minimal hair. "I need your blood, Dean. It's simple. I can't use the tablet unless I have that. Now, I could bore you with all the details, but let's say that I don't think it's really fair to shut the Gates of Hell and leave the Gates of Heaven open." the demon mused. Dean knew where this was heading and bit his lower lip. "I have the Angel Tablet. I have everything else I need, but your blood." he said aiming the weapon at Dean now. Dean readied himself.

"Dean!" Sam shouted as his brother made his move. Dean rushed Crowley, smacking him into the wall, drawing blood. The Colt went flying across the room and landed near Sam's feet. Unaware of what else was happening around him, the vampire wrapped his hands around the demon's neck. "Dean, stop!" Sam shouted from his seat. The distraction allowed the demon the upper hand and he was able to thrust Dean back across the room. Blood seeped out of the vampire's face. "Dean?"

Crowley stood up and dusted himself off. "Thank you, Sam. I owe you one. Now, Dean..." he said drawing closer to where Dean was catching his breath. Dean fought to climb to his feet, but he knew he had lost a lot of what he had and was becoming weaker. "This won't hurt much." he said as he reached in his jacket and removed a syringe. Dean could tell that it was filled with dead man's blood and it all came rushing at him. Crowley knew he would be in a coma, that Benny would turn him, and lead him where he was now. "Sit still." the demon said drawing closer.

Collecting the last amount of strength he had in his body Dean brought his hand up and drove the needle into Crowley's right eye. The demon howled with pain as he spun around violently trying to remove the needle. Dean seized the moment and drop-kicked the demon, sending him across the room into a tank. The needle drove further into Crowley's eye. "Eat that, bitch." Dean declared. Crowley was blindly flailing around trying to remove the needle. "Sam, you okay?" he asked his brother as he untied him and helped him up.

As he was helping Sam out of the room, Crowley came from behind and threw Dean back. Sam flew across the room and smacked his head against the stage in the main room. Dean could feel himself becoming increasingly weaker. Crowley was trying to light a match as Dean pocketed the Colt. "I'm not done with you yet, Winchester!" he shouted. Dean listened as he struck the match and the room lit up. Smoke quickly filled the room and a blaze raced around himself and Crowley. "You can win." the demon threatened, limping. Dean scoffed.

"I'm not the one missing an eye." The demon reached up and felt the empty socket where his eye had once been. "And you seem to forget that I'm not human any longer." the vampire said rushing the demon. There was a loud smack as the two connected and flew through the flames. Crowley ended up behind the bar, a few feet from the unconscious Sam. Dean fought to climb to his feet as he watched the fire on Crowley's coat caught the bottles of liquor behind the bar. Unable to focus he could hear the demon shouting that it wasn't over and through the thick smoke he saw him vanish. Satisfied that the fight was over he directed his attention to Sam.

Fully aware that Sam wouldn't want the life he now had he threw him over his shoulder and danced through the falling beams and increasing heat. He knew Sam would awaken in time, but how long was the issue. He didn't seem to be too bad off and as he burst out of the burning building he rest his unconscious brother on the hood of the Impala. Sam coughed up some blood and came back to him as the building started to collapse upon itself. In the distance Dean could hear the sirens coming and knew he didn't want to be around when they arrived.


	24. The Bed of Spider Webs

_**Chapter Twenty-Four:  
**__**The Bed of Spider Webs**_

Sam didn't know how long it had been or where he was, but the one thing he knew that he was sore. He tried to make sense of the shattered memories of what happened except nothing came to him. All he could remember was the heat of the fire, Crowley saying something about taking them out, and being held captive with Cas until Dean and Benny had shown up. Everything else was a complete haze. "You're awake." Dean said breaking his younger brother's thoughts. Sam sat up and looked around. He was in the Impala, off to the side of the road, with Dean behind the wheel.

"Where are we?" Sam asked, in a haze of weariness. Dean said nothing. "Dean, what's wrong?" Sam could sense that something was off about his older brother, but he wasn't sure what it was. "Dean, talk to me." Dean continued to remain silent, eyes directed at the road ahead of them. Sam shifted in his seat and waited for his brother to speak. "Look...if this is about Crowley and being taken, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to force your hand." Dean let out a long sigh.

Sam saw the expression on his brother's face and felt a chill run through him. "Sam," Dean's voice was even and direct, "we have to talk. I need you to listen to me because what I'm about to say...what I'm about to say will won't come easy, but it has to be said." Sam nodded and watched as Dean tried to find the words to express himself. "I didn't make it out of the car wreck unscathed. I know your memories are a bit of a blur right now, so let me clue you in. I was in an accident and...it was bad. You went to the hospital looking for me, with Benny, and left with the intention of making a deal." Sam listened as his brother laid it out to him.

"Dean, I don't remember this. The last thing I remember before waking up tied to that chair in the basement of the club was eating at McDonald's. After that it's all a haze. I remember Crowley talking about trying to kill us, Cas being in the basement with me, then you and Benny breaking in and taking out those things. That's all." Sam defended himself. Dean scoffed, but it wasn't a lie. He tried to reason with his brother, but Dean wouldn't have it. "What's going on, Dean? Just tell me."

He watched as the elder Winchester looked out the window. "After you left I was brought back. Benny and I had a deal, back in Purgatory, and..." Dean's voice trailed off. Sam tried to make sense of what Dean was saying, but his mind was far too fractured at the moment to make sense of it. "Sam, Benny brought me back." Dean's voice cracked as he finished his sentence and Sam felt the weight of what his brother was saying crash down upon him.

"Brought you back..." Sam mused. Dean opened the door of the Impala and climbed out into the cold evening air. Sam followed, feeling the bite of the air as he did, and watched as his brother started to drift back and forth. "I don't think I'm understanding what you're saying, Dean. I understand that you're standing there across from me, but 'brought you back'? I don't follow you." Sam lied. He had an idea of what the elder Winchester was saying, but he wanted to hear it from his brother's own lips. He couldn't believe it until he said it with his own conviction.

Dean rested his hands on the roof of the Impala. "God, Sam...I don't even know how to explain this." Sam could hear his frustration seeping through. Sam rolled his eyes and rested his hands on the roof. "You're making this difficult, you know that?" Dean said reaching through the window of the Impala and removing the keys. Sam watched as he looked the keys over, studying them, and threw them over to him. "Take care of her, Sammy." Sam shifted his weight.

"I'm making this difficult? You're the one who can't come out and say what the hell is bothering him. I'm trying, Dean. I'm here. I'm listening. And you're avoiding it. Just fucking tell me what's going on!" Sam shouted. Dean turned from his brother again. Sam threw his arms up and started walking away from the Impala. "Fine, don't tell me. We'll do what we always end up doing and drive to the next town, in silence, and wait for something to come up." Sam was hot now and could feel the tension building between them.

As Sam came around the back of the Impala Dean spun around to face him. Sam backed up a few feet as Dean's face came into sharp focus. "This." Dean said, flashing his brother his teeth. Sam could see the rows of razor sharp fangs protruding from his brother's mouth and knew, in that instant, what Dean was trying to say. "This is what I'm talking about." Sam swallowed hard and tried to collect himself. "Before you ask and offer to help, it's too late. There's no cure now." Sam fell back and found himself against the back door of the Impala, Dean looming over him now.

"How? When? Dean, I don't..." Sam stammered as his brother climbed down to his level and sat next to him. "Why would you do this to yourself? You...I don't...I can't...this is too much to take in. God..." Sam ran his hand through his hair and found himself off balance now. His mind raced with questions that he knew Dean would never answer. "I...why?" Sam managed to choke out.

Dean retracted the fangs and rested his hand on his brother's shoulder. "I don't expect you to understand my reasons, Sam. I had to, you have to understand that. I couldn't face the thought of living the rest of my life in fear of ending back up in Hell or Purgatory or worse." Dean explained, being honest with his younger brother for what felt like the first time in their lives. "So, when Benny and I came back we made a deal. Should I end up like I was, balancing on the edge of life and death, he would turn me." Sam listened, closely, and tried to make sense of his brother's logic. "Tonight was that moment and...Sam, I know where this will take me. I don't want to know that and I don't like knowing it, but I do. And there's nothing neither one of us can do."

Sam felt his stomach churn as Dean spoke. "I need a minute," Sam said rolling over and vomiting, "to take all of this in." Sam could taste the mixture of blood, food, and drink rolling on his tongue as he continued to release his stomach contents. Dean seemed to understand, though, and was busy studying his hands. Turning back to the vampire that was once his own flesh and blood, Sam faked a smile. "We can fix this, Dean. We've done it before. There has to be a way after you've...went full on vampire." Dean shot his brother his trademark smirk and stood up. "What? We can make it through this. I know we can. There has to be a way." Sam reasoned.

Dean shot his arm out and Sam took it. "Sam," Dean said in a reassuring tone, "I'm beyond being fixed. I want this. And I know you're going to want to look for the cure, and I'm asking you not to. I need you to let this be. For me." Dean sat on the hood of the car and motioned for Sam to sit beside him. "I was upset when I came back and you had...run off with Amelia. I was hurt. But the more I thought about it and the more time we spent these last few months...Sam...be with her. I owe you that." Dean said finally. Sam felt like he was hit by a ton of bricks.

"Dean, I don't think I can do this." Sam tried to fight back the tears that were welling up in his eyes, but he knew it was no use. He could feel the first tear sliding down his cheek. "Don't...don't do this, Dean." Dean closed his eyes and formed a fist. "We're brothers. We can make it through this." Sam was about to lose it now. He could feel himself becoming weaker, his emotions taking over, his rational mind sinking, and his stomach betraying him. "Please, don't do this."

Dean bit his lower lip and Sam watched as the blood trickled out of his brother's lips. "Don't make this more difficult than it has to be, Sam." Dean said standing up. Sam didn't care what his reaction was, he drew in close and threw his arms around him, embracing him tightly. Dean reciprocated the gesture and Sam felt how cold his brother had become. "You have to do this, Sam. Just like I can't be around you. I don't know where I'll end up or what I'll do." Dean said, holding onto his brother. Sam sniffled and removed himself.

"We're doing this." Sam mused aloud as Dean backed up a few inched. "We're really doing this. Can you walk away like this, Dean? Can you? Leave this life you loved more than Ben and Lisa? Just like that. You were the one who wanted to make things right between us." Sam noted. Dean kept a straight face, but Sam knew that inside he was crying. Drawing his hand to his eyes, Sam removed a tear from his face. "You know, before all of this, I was thinking about walking away." The confession felt better than he had expected it would. Dean's head cocked to the side. "Yeah, I was taking calls from Amelia. That's where I had been disappearing off to."

Dean could only nod as Sam watched him work through the information he had thrown out there. "I know," Dean said softly, "I knew it from the start. I had a feeling this would be our last case." the elder Winchester started to turn when Sam asked him to stop. "What is it, Sam? You want to be with her, I want to be alone, and I think we have said everything we needed to say." Dean reasoned. Sam knew his brother was right, but something was holding him there. "What is left to say?"

"Will I be able to contact you?" Sam asked, once again unable to control his emotions. His voice skipped as he spoke, but Dean didn't seem to mind. "You can't leave me like this. I don't care if you're a vampire, or a werewolf, or a vengeful spirit. It's not what we do! It's not fair." Dean slowly returned his eyes to his brother and let out a long, labored sigh. Sam fought back the tears that were now coming, unable to shove the emotion down. "It's not fair."

"I never said it would be, Sam." Dean said and started to walk away. Sam climbed in the Impala, hands trembling, and turned it over. He could see the hurt in Dean's face, even if he wouldn't come out and say it himself, and he wanted nothing more in that moment than to bring him back and solve this. But he knew that wouldn't be the case. Everything had changed now. And as he turned the car around and watched his brother walk away in the rearview mirror he knew that it was on him now to either hunt him down and kill him, or save his brother from himself. The only question was which would it be in the end? Could he do it? Could he bring himself to hunt his own brother?


End file.
